


Three Times The Charm

by whiskygalore



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Bottom Dean, M/M, Omega Dean, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:47:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskygalore/pseuds/whiskygalore
Summary: Unless Dean wants to risk heat-sickness, it’s time for him to settle down and find a suitable alpha. With the help of Ellen and Garth, who run Fairdale Den, he sets about finding a mate. Unfortunately, Dean soon discovers that this dating malarkey isn’t as easy as he thought, but is it possible that the reason he can’t find one alpha to settle down with is because what he really wants is three?
Relationships: Benny Lafitte/Dean Winchester, Cain/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester/Castiel/Benny Lafitte/Cain
Comments: 48
Kudos: 216
Collections: Supernatural and J2 Big Bang 2020





	Three Times The Charm

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the spn_J2 BB. Many thanks to Wendy our awesome mod, Jdl71 for yet again beta-ing for me, and of course to liliaeth for choosing my weird little fic to art for!

****

**  
  
CHAPTER ONE**

Dean didn’t ask to be born an omega. Given a choice in the matter, without a doubt, he’d have chosen to be “normal” like the other 95% of the population. Even being born an alpha wouldn’t have sucked quite so much. Alphas were still pretty rare, but they outnumbered omegas by nearly two to one. Plus, there wasn’t the same stigma attached to alphas. Especially male alphas. The stereotypical alpha was tough. Not to be messed with. Powerful muscles and big dicks. Omegas, on the other hand, were supposedly just pretty little dainty things who needed babies to make their life complete. Which… total bullshit as far as Dean is concerned.

But, whatever, at the end of the day Dean didn’t get a choice in his designation; he’s an omega, and, like it or not —definitely not— he has to deal with it.

It’s not like he presented as an omega overnight. It wasn’t some sudden revelation that crept up on him like a bogeyman when puberty hit. Dean grew up knowing he was an omega. They test every kid these days just after birth so there are no nasty surprises later on. And also, Dean suspects, so the government can keep tabs on them. Frankly, he’s surprised they don’t just tag all the omegas and alphas, or print a damn barcode on the back of their necks. At least that would be more honest than the secret files Dean’s heard they keep.

The fact that Dean is an omega is not a subject that Dean and his small family often discuss. Or, ever discuss. His biology is something they apparently formed a silent agreement at some point to ignore. Just like they ignore the fact that his dad has been a borderline alcoholic ever since their mom packed up and left when Sam was still a baby. And just like they ignore the fact that Dean has brought Sam up almost single-handedly ever since. Looking after kids was just too much for John Winchester to handle on top of holding down a mechanic’s job and drinking for six hours a day.

If there’s one thing the Winchester’s are experts in it’s burying their heads in the sand.

Today, there’s no ignoring the fact that Dean’s packing up and leaving his dad and brother behind though.

“I'm sure it'll be fine.”

Sam doesn’t sound sure, or look sure, not with the way he’s pacing their shared bedroom as Dean packs his bag.

“Of course it’ll be fine, Sammy,” Dean says, rolling another of his favorite tee-shirts up and tucking it into the least full corner of his hold-all. “Anyway, it’s not like I have much choice. If I don’t turn up this time, we’ll have Omega Welfare agents banging at the door to find out why. We knew this was coming. I’m twenty-two. I’ve already put it off longer than I should have.”

Throwing himself down on his bed, Sam sighs with teenager dramatics. “I know you have to go, Dean, I’m not an idiot. It’s just that, well, I’m really gonna miss you. I wish you didn’t have to go through all this. It’s not fair.”

Giving up on his packing for a second, Dean sits down beside his little brother, and throws an arm over his shoulder. “Sammy, if you’ve reached seventeen and still think life is fair then you’re either really damn lucky or really fucking dumb.”

“Dean…”

“No, Sammy.” Dean cuts off Sam’s incoming whine. “I know we don’t discuss this gender shit, just like we don’t talk about mom, or how much dad drinks every day. But the fact is, I’m a twenty-two-year-old unmated omega. You know as well as I do that a Den is pretty much my only option.”

“Den,” Sam huffs. “No one even really knows what goes on in those places. For all we know they're just going to auction your ass off to the highest bidder.”

Dean bristles, his arm tensing where it hangs over Sam’s shoulder. This is exactly what he doesn’t need to hear. It’s not like he isn’t worried enough about what he’s walking into. “Thanks, Sam, that bullshit conspiracy crap is really what I want to hear right now.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Sam says, although the stubborn pop to his words clearly contradicts that. “But, get this, Dean, Ruby says her cousin, Anna, went to a Den two years ago and her family never heard from her again! They told her parents she’d happily mated with an alpha but if that’s true why didn’t she get back in touch with any of her family?”

The answer to that is at least is a no-brainer. “Maybe because her family are a bunch of ultra-religious right-wing dicks who believe omegas are basically mindless baby-making machines. And, dude, Ruby? You really need to find yourself some decent friends. What happened to Kevin and that cute chick? What was her name again? Jessica?”

Sam blushes. “We… ah, we kind of had an argument.”

“Oh?” That’s news to Dean. Jessica and Sam were all over each other the last Dean knew. And the last he saw. He still gets unwanted flashbacks to seeing his baby brother sticking his tongue down that poor girl’s throat. God, seventeen-year-old boys are gross. 

“Yeah, um, about... well, all this.”

“Oh?” Dean repeats, sharper this time.

Sam fidgets with his watch strap before finally coughing up the details. “She said… uh… she said that Ruby was a lying bitch. And that… well, that you needed to go to a Den. And that I was being a selfish jerk for complaining about it so much.”

Dean knew he liked Jessica.

“She’s not wrong you know.”

Sam slumps under Dean’s arm, the petulance and anger draining out of him all at once. “I know. I just wish you didn’t have to go.”

“And I wish I didn’t have to leave you, Sammy. But you’re not an idiot. You’ve probably read more of the medical shit than I have. If I don’t find a compatible alpha to mate with soon, the chances are I’m gonna get sick.”

“You might not, Dean,” Sam argues, although he sounds more hopeful than convinced. “Recent studies have shown that only around half of omegas who don’t mate before they reach full adult maturity get sick. Some omegas manage perfectly fine on their own. They…”

“Sam,” Dean sighs. “Are you honestly suggesting that I take a gamble like that? That I risk my life on the chance that I’m one of the lucky few who won’t get sick. You want me to throw that dice and let fate decide whether I live or die without at least trying to stack the odds in my favor?”

Sniffing wetly, Sam wipes the back of his hand across his snotty nose. An act, by the way, that Dean finds just as disgusting now as he did when Sam was a grubby toddler. “Maybe you’ll find an alpha around here.”

“Trust me, there’s not an alpha in this county that I wouldn’t rather punch in the face than mate with. Look, I get that you’re worried, but honest, Sam, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. I’m not gonna be auctioned off. It’s not some huge government conspiracy. I’m just gonna meet some alphas. And if I like the look of any of them, maybe I’ll spend some time with them. Maybe I’ll date them. Maybe one or two. Maybe a dozen. But I’ll not be spending time with anyone I don’t want to. It’s like speed dating. Really intense speed dating. And, with any luck, I’ll meet someone I want to mate with.”

“It’s fucked up,” Sam grumbles.

Dean sighs. It’s not like he doesn’t agree, but the fact is if he doesn’t mate with someone in the next few years, before he reaches full maturity, then one of these days heat sickness will hit him, and it will quite possibly kill him. If there is an alpha out there that, by some miracle, Dean can stand to mate with, then he wouldn’t mind getting the chance to meet them. Even if the thought of tying himself to an alpha for the rest of his life makes him feel slightly nauseous.

“Look at it this way, Sammy,” Dean tries. “After seventeen years of sharing with me, you finally get a bedroom to yourself. That’s a solid silver lining right there.”

“And I get to deal with Dad’s drunk ass all on my own.”

Sam sounds so fucking forlorn that Dean’s heart almost breaks. This… this right here, is the reason that Dean almost requested another extension when he got his latest invitation to attend the Den. Another year, hell, another six months and Sam will be gone. Graduated, grown up and finding his feet at college. Stanford by the looks of things.

But six months might be too late for Dean. Full maturity usually hits omegas before they reach twenty-four, but sometimes it’s earlier. There’s no way to tell. And Dean would rather Sam suffered a few months at home without him, than the rest of his life wishing his big brother had gotten off his ass and found a mate before it was too late.

Dean knows in his bones that it’s time for him to go. He can feel it. And, as much as he loves Sammy, this time he has to put himself first. However, much it kills him to do it. Especially when Sam looks at him with those puppy dog eyes that he perfected at two years of age.

“Dean!” His father’s voice breaks through the melancholy of the moment. “You better get your ass in gear if you want to make it by nightfall.”

Dean gives Sam a squeeze before standing up. “It’s only a few more months before you’ll be ditching us anyway, college boy.”

“Dean,” Sam lays a hand on Dean’s arm and says, heart-wrenchingly earnestly, “Promise me you won’t disappear on us. That I’ll see you again.”

“Jesus, of course you’ll see me again.” Dean hauls his brother in for a hug, swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat. And dammit, was his brother actually bigger than him now? “You’ll never get rid of me, kiddo. No matter how hard you try.”

“Dean!” Dad shouts again.

Trying not to let Sam see how upset he is about his departure now that it’s very much happening, Dean claps his brother on the back and forces a smile on his face.

“Guess it’s time to get this show on the road, huh, Sammy?”

“It’s Sam,” Sam corrects him, but without his usual ire.

“Whatever you say, bitch.”

“Jerk!” Sam retorts. The come-back is half-hearted, but they share a smile anyway.

Dean stuffs the last of his belongings in his hold-all and, with a little help from Sam, manages to close it without too much cursing.

Dad is waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, for once, almost completely sober.

“You sure about this, son?” His dad asks for about the hundredth time since Dean told him he was leaving. At least this time he isn’t yelling.

“Yeah, Dad.” Dean shrugs. “I’ve got to go. You don’t want the Omega Welfare department banging on the door again.”

“If you really didn’t want to go, I’ll deal with those assholes,” John says gruffly.

It’s not that Dean _wants_ to go. He has to. “It’s for the best.”

John nods, scrubbing his hands against his scruffy beard. Dean doesn’t think he’s seen his dad clean shaven since his mom left. It’s just one sign of how much her leaving changed things for them all. “I guess you’re right. Just for Christ sake, don’t go running off with some knothead just cause he smells good. You’re worth a damn site more than that, son.”

Dean blinks in shock as he steps back. That’s almost an honest-to-God compliment from his father. He’s really not sure what to do with it.

“I guess I’d better hit the road,” Dean says, after an awkward moment of silence. He grabs his bag and makes for the door without meeting his father’s eyes.

“Here,” his dad says, taking the bag from his hand. “I’ll take this out to the Impala for you.”

Dean doesn’t argue. He just hopes this new sober, calm, version of John Winchester is going to stick around for a while for Sam’s sake.

There’s another round of hugs, a few blinked away tears from Sam, and then Dean is watching his dad and brother waving goodbye through his rearview mirror.

It’s even harder than he thought it would be to leave his family behind. To leave Sammy behind. Dean has to pull over and stop at the side of the road just fifteen miles outside town to talk himself down from a panic attack. He’s doing the right thing. He knows he is. He’s doing the only thing he can do. But that doesn’t stop his hands from shaking and the tears from pooling in his eyes. It takes nearly twenty minutes, a good cry (that he will never confess to anyone) and a lot of deep breathing before he’s finally on his way again, Metallica vibrating through his bones and drowning out his thoughts.

The Fairdale Omega Den isn’t what Dean had expected. It does have the imposing security gates that he’d imagined but behind them the building, mansion sized and vine-covered, lacks the bars on the windows and the institutional feel that he’d feared. Despite his confident lecture to Sam, Dean hadn’t been entirely sure he wasn’t rolling up to some outdated institute that would try and auction him off the highest bidder.

He isn’t letting his guard down just yet, but his first impression is that the place looks more like an upmarket country hotel than a seedy government institute.

He’s barely drawn up to the front door before a welcoming committee is walking down the stairs to meet him. A couple of guys maybe just a few years older than Dean and a woman around his dad’s age, all wearing name badges and bright smiles.

“Dean Winchester! Welcome to the Fairdale Den. We’re so excited that you’re finally able to join us. I’m Garth, and I’ll be your facilitator for your stay with us.”

Dean almost flinches at the over effusive greeting. And he very pointedly stands his ground when it looks like Garth is trying to come in for a hug. Dean is an omega but that doesn’t automatically mean he’s into touchy feely crap. Dean Winchester is not a hugger.

Garth, to his credit, changes his body language at the very last second and reaches out his hand instead; his handshake a lot firmer than his reedy appearance would have suggested.

“My facilitator?” Dean asks. He does not like the sound of that.

Garth grins, wide and gummy and utterly guileless. “That’s me. Anything you need, man, any questions, you just ask Garth. I’m here to make your stay as comfortable and successful as possible.”

“Uhuh,” Dean says, not quite sure what to make of the over-enthusiastic little dude.

“And I’m Ellen.” The woman introduces herself. “I manage this place. You’ll be working predominantly with Garth but I like to schedule regular appointments with all our residents. Just to touch base and make sure everyone is happy.”

Ellen has a handshake that almost leaves Dean wincing, and a steely look in her eyes that Dean has seen in more than one teacher in his life. If his first impression is right, Ellen is not someone to mess with.

“And I’m Benny.” The last of the group introduces himself, an unexpected southern lilt to his voice. “I’m mainly in charge of security around here.”

“And he makes a mean gumbo with a little bit of sweet talking,” Garth adds as Benny shakes Dean’s hand. The guy isn’t too much taller than Dean, but his broad shoulders and thick arms make him seem much bigger. His eyes are friendly though, and his smile warm enough to make him appear like more of a cuddly teddy bear than the vicious grizzly Dean would have expected to be in charge of security around here.

Dean’s withholding judgment on them all however, until he figures out exactly how this set-up works.

“So,” Ellen says. “Let's get you settled in and explain how we operate.”

By the time Ellen and Garth have shown Dean around the house before finally escorting Dean to his room, Benny drifting off mid tour, Dean’s head is spinning with information.

Meals are at set times, and taken in the large dining room, although everyone has a small kitchenette with limited cooking facilities in their rooms if they aren't feeling sociable. No visiting alphas are allowed in the house without express permission and every guest has to sign in and out. There are twelve omegas in residence presently but, according to Ellen, the house is large enough to comfortably hold double that.

Every resident is expected to keep their room clean and help out with chores if necessary but there are enough staff to deal with the day to day running of the place. Dean’s main job is to find himself an alpha.

“With our help of course,” Garth solemnly assures him.

“And as you’ve delayed coming to us for a while now, we’ve no time to waste,” Ellen adds.

Dean feels like he’s being scolded. “I’ve had other priorities, ma’am,” he shoots back, shoulders hitching up defensively. “My family needed me at home.”

“Hey, amigo,” Garth holds up his hands. “No one’s blaming you.”

“No?” Dean says, arching a brow at Ellen. “You sure?”

“Your stay here is entirely voluntary, Dean,” Ellen replies calmly. “I’m well aware that the government heavily encourages omegas to take the opportunity to find a mate before heat sickness becomes a problem, but the program simply won’t work unless you’re willing to actively participate.”

Heavily encourages; that’s one way to put it. “I’m here aren’t I?” Dean points out.

“That’s a start,” Ellen agrees. “But we still need you to help us to help you.”

Dean tries very hard not to roll his eyes.

“I know it sounds trite,” Ellen admits. “But unless you fully participate in our program, the chances of a successful outcome are slim.”

“And what exactly does full participation involve?” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, not sure he’s keen on where this conversation is heading. If they think for one second they’re going to turn Dean into some mindless submissive Stepford omega, then Dean’s booking it out of here right the hell now.

“It involves you telling us what you’re looking for in a mate. Filling out our questionnaires honestly and socializing with the guests at any mixer events we hold. It means keeping an open mind and going on dates, even when you think our choices for you are insane. It means trusting us. And it means coming off your suppressants and blockers.”

There is nothing in Ellen’s speech that Dean didn’t expect. Doesn’t mean he’s overjoyed to hear it though.

He isn’t generally known as Mr. Sociable and attending a ‘mixer’ sounds like his own personal nightmare. And of course, he’s been on his suppressants and blockers for years. Coming off them isn’t something he’s looking forward to.

“When? he asks. “When do I have to come off them?”

“Straight away,” Ellen replies, without beating around the bush. “The drugs can take some time to work their way out of your system, especially the suppressants if you’ve been on them for any length of time.”

Dean has been on them since the early signs that his first heat was about to hit when he was fifteen. He hadn’t wanted the humiliation of going through a heat then. He doesn’t especially want to go through one ever.

Ellen continues. “We have a doctor with whom you can discuss any concerns you might have about coming off the meds. You’re scheduled for a full medical tomorrow morning anyway.”

“I am?”

“You are,” Ellen replies firmly. “Your physical and mental wellbeing are very important to us. It’s vital that you have regular check-ups. Look, Dean, you seem like a sensible young man, let me be blunt with you. When they first come here a lot of omegas have certain issues. Maybe they’ve been mistreated by parents who didn’t want an omega child, maybe they’ve been bullied by their siblings or peers, or subjected to abuse by certain religious groups. Maybe they’ve just been plain neglected. A lot of omegas have never even had a chance to talk to a doctor who specializes in omega care.”

Although Dean knows this Ellen chick is speaking sense, he’s still instinctively on the defensive. “I’m sorry there are so many assholes in the world, but seriously none of that crap happened to me. I’m fine.”

To be honest, Dean hasn’t actually ever seen an omega doctor. But he doesn’t see any problem with that, not when their family doctor has always been perfectly happy to keep him supplied with suppressants and blockers.

“I’m not suggesting you aren’t fine, Dean. But as you can imagine, it’s not easy for us to pinpoint the omegas who need extra help, that’s why we follow the same routine with everyone. So, as much as it pains you, I’d be grateful if you’d just put up with the medical appointments we have set up for you tomorrow and let us ensure we have a care plan in place.”

Dean’s hackles rise once again. “A care plan? I’m not sick, lady and I can damn well take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”

Garth steps in this time. “No, bro, we aren’t saying you are sick, or you can’t look after yourself. Like the boss lady says, this is all routine. While you’re here, you’re under our care. We just need to have the paperwork to prove we’re doing right by you.”

Dean grits his teeth. He hates being treated like a kid. It’s patronizing as hell especially when he hasn't had the chance to act like a kid in years.

“Dean, I know you might have heard horror stories about what goes on in places like this,” Ellen adds. “But I promise you, you are in total control of what happens here. Our job is to help and facilitate, not force you into anything. But…”

“ _But_!” Dean repeats with scorn. “There’s always a but.”

Ellen arches a withering look at him. “But we can only help you if you let us.”

Dean huffs. He doesn’t even know why he’s being so combative about this. It’s not like he didn’t know what he was letting himself in for coming here. But suddenly, now he is here, away from his family, on his own for the first time ever, it all feels very real. And a little terrifying.

He takes a deep breath and tells himself it's not Ellen and Gareth’s fault that Dean’s an omega. Or that omegas are basically fucked from birth.

“And your biological clock is ticking,” Garth points out, just as Dean is on the cusp of apologizing for being an ass.

“Garth,” Ellen groans, looking at the pinched expression on Dean’s face. “What did I tell you?”

Garth‘s smile falters for the first time. “Not to say that again... ever?”

Dean sighs. “It’s fine. It’s not like you're wrong, I guess. Just, give me a chance to assimilate, okay?”

Ellen pats his arm. “Sweetie, trust me, with Garth as your facilitator, resistance is futile.”

That startles a laugh out of Dean, and a reluctant smile. He nods at Ellen. “Okay, lady, you win. As long as you don’t expect me to turn into some sweet submissive omega, I’ll do what I’m told.”

Ellen smirks at him. “I doubt that very much. But I think you’ll fit in just fine around here. Who knows, you might even have fun.”

  
  
  


**CHAPTER TWO**

Four days into his stay at the Fairdale Omega Den, Dean is not having fun. He didn’t realize there was so much paperwork involved in being an omega.

Medical history, family medical history (no, Dean doesn’t know if his great grandmother was an omega, sue him), education, work, dating, sexual history! And that’s all before the psychological tests (it’s not a test, Dean, just an indicator of your personality type, there are no wrong answers. Pfft… there are always wrong answers in Dean’s experience.)

And then there are the reams of forms about Dean’s ideal alpha. About what he’s looking for in a partner. What he definitely isn’t looking for. They even go so far as to ask what he likes in bed! Dean really doesn’t know what to say to that. He settles on something vague and barely true. He doesn’t want to admit that he’s never slept with an alpha before and that his sexual history is pretty much limited to basic one-night-stands with girls and rushed hand jobs with guys. 

He would probably feel more humiliated by it all if Garth wasn’t so professional and, worse, downright personable.

On top of all the damn paperwork, Dean is also having to get used to living without his blockers and suppressants.

The suppressants aren’t so much of an issue, not yet anyway. It’ll probably take a few months to work those drugs out of his system. It’s the lack of blockers that are the problem. His senses have gone into overdrive.

The blockers were designed to stop other omegas and alphas scenting Dean, but they also stopped Dean from scenting other people. Now he’s stopped taking those little pills every day, it feels like his sense of smell has gone insane. It’s overwhelming, and really fucking annoying.

“You’ll get used to it,” Charlie assures him.

Dean sneezes. Three times in a row.

Charlie laughs.

Dean can’t even be mad at her. She’s been one of the few bright spots in this whole hellish experience. Charlie has been a resident at Fairdale for four months already and she had immediately adopted Dean when he’d turned up for his first meal in the dining room wearing a Batman tee-shirt. She’d spent the entire meal lecturing Dean on all the ways Batman was a poor excuse for a Superhero before going on to divulge all the information Garth and Ellen had neglected to mention. Such as the fact, the food in the dining hall is always to die for, but the pies especially are absolute heaven.

Now that Dean can scent her, he knows that Charlie’s omega scent is as spicy as her ginger hair, but with an underlying warmness that makes Dean relax anytime she brushes against him. Her presence is comforting. She reminds Dean of Sam in a lot of ways, both with her sharp mind and her teasing. Sam, he suspects, would love her.

“Why do we even need a better sense of smell than anyone else?” Dean bitches. “I mean what’s the goddamn point? Was Mother Nature on crack when she came up with the whole omega/alpha thing? Is it all some big cosmic joke?”

Dean sneezes again. It’s the goddamn flowers. Why do they even need tiny vases of tiny flowers on the tables?

“Goddamnit!”

Charlie hands him a tissue.

“Yin and yang,” she says. “It’s all about balance.”

“Balance,” Dean scoffs, before blowing his nose loudly. “Baloney.”

“No,” she says, handing him the rest of her packet of tissues. “Seriously. I mean there’s obviously the whole scientific schtick about how we evolved and why we’re different. But I think it’s all about balance. And love, obviously.”

“Obviously?” Dean repeats.

“We’re half of a pair. Alpha and omega. Dark and light. Night and Day. We need to find our match, the right partner to balance us out.”

“You really think so?” Dean asks, doubtfully.

“It’s what my mom always told me when I was little. Humans weren’t designed to be alone. They were meant to have mates. Families. Being an alpha or omega is an evolutionary advantage over everyone else. We can scent out our other half and know immediately if we’re compatible. If there’s a connection.”

“So, just because I like the smell of someone means I’m their soul mate? I don’t buy that. And what if I don’t want to be part of a pair? What if I’m perfectly happy staying single?”

Charlie grimaces. “If you were just normal that would be fine. But biologically speaking we are designed to be part of a pair. Heat sickness is a scientific fact.”

“And what kind of bullshit is that?” Dean complains.

Charlie shrugs. “I’m not arguing. I guess it’s just a shove from Mother Nature to get procreating.”

“A natural roofie. Make us desperate enough and we’ll bend over for anyone. It’s fucked up.”

“I guess that’s why omegas always tended to stick together, historically speaking. They had each other’s backs when they were vulnerable. Until the omega found an alpha that would protect them. I mean, that’s essentially what this place is all about. Protecting us until we find an alpha to mate with.”

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs. “Still feels like Mother Nature screwed us over big time.”

“Maybe,” Charlie says. “But there are some advantages.”

“Like what?”

“Like mind blowing orgasms that can last for hours, Dean.”

Dean blushes. He does not want to talk about sex while he’s eating. Or trying to eat while his haywire sense of smell sends him into sneezing fits. He doesn’t actually want to speak about sex at all with Charlie.

Charlie laughs at him. “You’re adorable.”

“Hey dudettes, how’s it hanging?” Ash drops down into a seat at their table. He’s another of the omega residents, the only other male omega here right now, and a nice enough guy despite his hideous mullet and stoner attitude. Dean had been shocked to learn he’s been here for nearly seven months. Dean can’t imagine being stuck in this place, however nice it appears, for that long. According to Charlie though, it’s not that unusual. Omegas aren’t encouraged to rush into relationships. Courting is supposed to happen at a steady and natural pace.

They’re encouraged to find a life partner, not just someone they want to screw senseless.

“We were just discussing orgasms,” Charlie says, casually.

Ash nods. “Oh yeah, bromegos, they are amazing! Best thing about being an omega is when you find an alpha who really knows how to knot you good. I’ll never forget my first time. Better than any high, man.”

Dean shifts awkwardly in his seat. He does not want to have this discussion. And definitely not in public.

“You know what I mean?” Ash sighs, obviously remembering something Dean does not want to imagine. “The way that knot fills you just right, presses on…”

“Dude,” Dean says, wrinkling his nose. “Please, some of us are trying to eat here.”

Charlie looks a little too knowing. “I don’t think our Dean has had the pleasure yet.”

“What?” Ash’s chin drops. “You’re a virgin, dude? But you’re so pretty!”

“I’m not a virgin,” Dean hisses, eye’s flitting around to see how many people heard that, most of the dining room by the sniggering side-glances he’s getting. “I’ve slept with plenty of people, okay.”

Ash is unimpressed. “And how many alphas have you slept with?”

“Loads,” Dean lies, his ears suddenly hot.

Ash and Charlie are starting to look like they feel sorry for him. Dean’s a second away from bolting when Garth appears at their table. “Hey guys. How’s it going? I hope you all remember our little party tomorrow night?”

Dean sneezes six times in a row. There’s something about Garth’s scent that irritates the hell out of his nose. And the dude isn’t even an omega or an alpha. He’s a damn normal. Rude or not, Dean’s about one more sneeze away from telling the guy to change his aftershave,

“Ooh,” Charlie says, kicking Dean under the table like she can sense his thoughts. “Dean’s welcome party. How exciting.”

Dean scowls at her. He hates parties. He especially hates parties _for_ him. Not that he’s had one since he was four. But even the thought of being the center of attention makes his palms sweat.

“I don’t need a party,” he tells Garth, not for the first time.

Garth is as unmoved as every other time. “Yes you do, you silly goose. We always have a welcome party for our new guests. It’s tradition.”

“I’m not really a traditional kind of guy,” Dean grumbles.

“Dude,” Ash interjects. “You’re wasting your breath. They love parties around here. Any excuse is good enough. They threw a birthday party for Garth’s hand puppet a couple of weeks ago.”

That hand puppet. Dean shivers. Creepy little sock-thing gives Dean the heebie-jeebies. Thankfully, Garth hasn’t tried to use Mr. Fizzles near him since Dean threatened to staple its mouth shut.

“And don’t forget your appointment with Dr. Missouri,” Garth reminds Dean, cheerfully, patting him on the back before he wanders away to bug some other poor schmuck.

“Goddamn,” Dean groans. “Can’t I just have a few hours to myself.”

“It gets easier,” Charlie reassures him. “The first week is the worst, I promise.”

Dean wishes he believed her.

Doctor Missouri is the kind of no-nonsense woman that had the measure of Dean within two minutes of meeting him. She knows not to coddle him. And not to bullshit him. But she also knows not to listen to his bullshit either.

“You’re peachy?” She repeats, rolling up the blood pressure cuff and putting it away.

“Sure,” Dean replies, leaning back in his chair and crossing his legs with what he hopes is a nonchalant air.

“Hmph. And you haven’t had any issues since we stopped your meds?”

“Nope,” Dean says.

“Hmph,” Missouri repeats. “I know you’re lying to me, boy. I just have no idea why you think that’s a good idea.”

Because he’s sick of getting poked and prodded and asked a bazillion stupid questions. His nose is sore, his eyes are stinging and he has a thundering headache. All he wants to do is retreat to his room and have a nap.

“Your blood pressure is high,” she berates him, as though Dean is pumping the blood through his veins as hard as possible to deliberately annoy her. She folds her hands in her lap and stares at Dean, practically daring him to bullshit her again.

Dean sighs. “It’s just… my sense of smell is driving me fucking insane.”

“Language,” Missouri tuts. “And of course it is, boy. You’ve been on these inhibitor meds ever since puberty when all your senses should have kicked in. Your doctor should have waited until at least three months after your first heat to prescribe any blockers, or suppressants. I bet they never even talked to you about the possibility of not taking meds. Honestly, the number of omegas I see in here with the same problem is astounding.”

Standing up, she walks to a cabinet, unlocks it and produces a packet of pain meds, tossing them across the room to Dean. “These should help with the headaches, and make sure to drink plenty of water. Keeping hydrated is important.”

“What about the scent thing?” Dean asks, turning the packet of painkillers over in hand and not even asking how she knew about his sore head. “Is it going to get any better?”

“You’ll get used to it, I promise, honey. Those blockers mess with all your senses so much, it just takes a while for your brain and body to adjust when they all come back on line. Another few days and things should even out. In the meantime, rest when you need to, hydrate, and don’t try and tough it out, take the pain meds for your head.”

Thinking that’s a dismissal, Dean moves to stand up.

“Sit your butt back down, Dean Winchester, we aren’t finished yet,” Missouri snaps at him. “Now, listen to me, I don’t want to hear any of your nonsense in this office. I’m your doctor and I need you to be honest with me. Always. Whatever you say to me is completely confidential, it doesn’t go outside these walls. And trust me, whatever you say to me, I’ll have heard it before. I’ve been an omega specialist since before you were born.”

Dean twists the meds in his fingers, not wanting to meet Missouri’s eyes.

“Are you listening to me, boy?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean returns, obediently.

“So, tell me how you’re feeling.”

Dean groans louder than he intended.

“Dean Winchester, I’m not a damn mind reader, you tell me how you’re feeling!”

“I’m fine!” Dean snaps. “I’ve got a freaking headache.”

Missouri humphs and crosses her arms over her chest. Dean figures if he doesn’t start talking, he isn’t escaping her clutches any time soon.

“Okay, okay. I’ll tell you how I feel. Fed up. I’ve had days of you people poking and prodding at me, asking me questions, testing me, treating me like an idiot and rolling your eyes every time there’s something else I don’t know about being an omega. And now I’ve got to go to a damn party. I hate parties. I always have. But that doesn’t matter, does it, because none of you care what I actually want, you just care that I fall into line and start acting like a good little bitch!”

Dean’s breathing hard by the time he finishes. He hadn’t known he was so angry until the words poured out.

Missouri nods, thin-lipped. “You feel better for getting that off your chest?”

Slumping back down in his chair, Dean sighs. “Not especially.”

“Dean, it’s perfectly normal for you to feel overwhelmed.”

Dean rolls his eyes which doesn’t do anything to help his headache.

“Don’t you roll your eyes at me, boy,” Missouri scolds, before gentling her tone again. “But no one is trying to change you. And no one thinks you’re an idiot, far from it. This experience is hard on anyone, but especially for someone like you, who’s always been incredibly independent, and who’s never had a chance to come to terms with being an omega.”

Dean wishes he hadn’t said anything. Not if he’s just going to be treated to another lecture about what a special snowflake he is just because he was unlucky enough to be born an omega.

“I’m fine with who I am,” he says flatly. “That just doesn’t line up with who you expect me to be.”

“Boy, you don’t even know who you are.” Missouri says, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Your parents were normals, right? No alphas or omegas in your immediate family? They treated you like you were just like them, but you’re not, and they should have dealt with that rather than ignore it.”

“There's nothing wrong with how my dad brought me up,” Dean says pointedly, his voice dropping low in warning. His family isn’t perfect, but he’s not going to sit and listen to anyone badmouthing them.

Missouri doesn’t back down. “I’m sure your dad thought he was doing what was best. But like it or not, you’re an omega, Dean, and he should have, at the very least, made sure you understood there was no shame in that. And he damn well should have made sure you understood how your biology and instincts worked. He should have supported you, not tried to pretend you were the same as him.”

Dean‘s heard enough. Face like thunder and an angry growl at the back of his throat, he jumps to his feet. He’s halfway to storming out the door when Missouri’s voice stops him.

“Dean, I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, but you need to accept the fact that you're an omega.”

“I know I’m a fucking omega, okay?” Dean whirls back around to face her. “You all keep telling me fifty times a day; it would be hard to forget it. That’s all I am to you people. An omega. Well, fuck that, at least my family cared about something other than my biology. I’m sick of this shit already. I’m outta here.”

“Dean,” Missouri says. “Don’t you walk out.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because you came here to Fairdale for a reason.”

“Yeah, well it was a dumb reason. And I was dumb for believing that I could stick it out in a place like this. I’d rather take my chances with heat-sickness than be brain-washed into believing I’m nothing more than my screwed-up biology.”

Dean storms out before Missouri can say anything else to stop him, slamming her office door behind him. He doesn’t go straight back to his room, even though he wants nothing more than to pack up his shit and hightail it out of there. He can’t face bumping into anyone right now, not while he’s either on the edge of bursting into tears or punching something. He needs fresh air, and space. A few minutes to calm down before his head explodes.

Thankfully, the grounds of Fairdale are expansive, at least a few acres, and honestly even Dean can admit they’re beautiful. Dean hasn’t had a chance to explore the whole area yet, but so far he’s found a pond, a vegetable garden and a couple of beehives. Even though the temperature is cool, some brave and hardy flowers still manage to bring a splash of color to the wilder areas of the garden, and they go a tiny way towards lifting Dean’s spirits.

He throws himself down on the grass and drops his head into his hands. He hadn’t meant to blow up like that at Missouri, but god, he’s sick of hearing how clueless he is about this whole omega thing. He’s not an idiot. He’s always known he was different. Shit, he’d spent half his school years punching out asshole kids for pointing that out to him. The problem with living in a relatively small town was everyone knew everyone else’s business. And everyone and their fucking aunt knew that Dean Winchester was one of them omega bitches. He’s been hearing it since he was too young to have any idea what it meant. And ever since he figured it out, he’s been busy proving to everyone, and himself, that he’s no-one’s goddamn bitch.

And okay, maybe he’d skipped classes on the few days they’d had school lessons about alpha/omega biology and history and anything vaguely related to it. School was enough of a shit show without his whole fucking class staring at him as they discussed the graphic details of how male omegas gave birth. Dean shuddered just to think about it.

He was an idiot to come here in the first place. He doesn’t know what he was thinking. Maybe that it would be nice to fit in with other people like him. To not be the only omega in the room for once. But all it’s made him do is feel even more out of place.

Like Sammy said, not every omega dies of heat sickness if they don’t find a compatible mate. Dean’s given this Omega Den thing a shot, he doesn’t fit in, and he’s fucking miserable. He’d rather take his chances on his own than waste the next God knows how long stuck in this pretty prison.

Dean dry swallows a couple of the pain meds, shoves the rest in his pocket and rubs his hand across his face, wiping away the tears of frustration he hadn’t even noticed had spilled over. He’s going to go grab his bag, find his damn car and book it out of here. There’s bound to be a motel nearby that he can crash at until his head stops pounding. Maybe he can find a clinic and ask for more blockers.

“Hey, brother.”

Dean startles, so lost in thought he hadn’t heard anyone approaching him. Didn’t even scent them. Although perhaps that’s because Benny is standing a distance downwind so that he didn’t.

“You doing okay there?”

Dean glares up at Benny. He hasn’t seen the security chief since the day he’d arrived. He doubts it’s coincidence that he’s seeing him now.

“You here to drag my sorry ass back inside?”

“What?” Benny says, taking a step towards him. “No. Nothing like that. Just saw you sitting out here when I was having my usual walk around the property and thought I’d check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine, thanks for your concern,” Dean says coldly, standing up, and brushing the damp grass off the ass of his jeans. Now on a level with Benny, Dean catches a whiff of his scent for the first time. And he’s no expert but there’s only one explanation for the distinct rich tone underlying his scent. Without thinking, Dean takes a step forward and leans in closer. Benny’s scent is hard to describe, but it reminds Dean viscerally of warm summer nights spent lying on the hood of the Impala listening to the crickets and watching the stars. It’s the best thing, the most relaxing, Dean has smelled since his senses went insane. Kind of makes him want to bury his nose in Benny’s neck and settle there for a while. “You’re an alpha?”

Charlie had told him that several alphas work at the Den. Dean guesses it makes sense that the security chief is one of them.

Benny nods. “Your senses are kicking in, huh? Don’t worry, you ain’t got nothing to be scared of with me.”

Dean snorts and leans back. “Dude, I’m not scared of you. I could take you down, alpha or not.”

Benny chuckles, his spring water eyes sparkling. “I’m sure you could, brother. You look pretty scrappy.”

“For an omega?” Dean finishes off for him snidely.

Benny's smile falters. “I never said that, never would, so I’d thank you not to put words in my mouth. There’s enough discrimination in the world without hearing it in here.”

Dean deflates. “Sorry, man. It’s been a rough day.”

“No worries.” Benny shrugs. “You want to talk about it?”

“Hell, no,” Dean replies firmly. “I’ve done enough talking the past few days to last a lifetime. Nah, I’m just going to go ahead and get out of y’all’s hair.”

Benny’s eyes widen, just a fraction. “You're leaving us already, Dean?”

“You going to stop me?” Dean asks, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. And god, his mood is as out of control as his sense of smell right now. His fight or flight response seems to be on red alert. “Is that part of your job? Make sure none of us make a run for it?”

Holding his hands up, palms towards Dean, Benny shakes his head. “No, man. You’re free to leave anytime you want. Although I think Ellen probably has some paperwork she’ll need you to sign.”

“Of course she has,” Dean says. “She has paperwork for everything. I’m surprised I get to piss without signing my life away.”

Benny gives him a wry smile and a soft chuckle that goes a little way towards easing the tension stringing across Dean’s shoulders. “She sure does like to have everything written down. But I’ll tell you, the welfare agents are pretty anal about this omega/alpha stuff. Ellen likes to make sure she runs a clean house so there’s no question of anyone else taking over the Den. She’s one of the good ones, brother, I promise you that.”

“Yeah?” Dean says. “I’m sure you’re right. Doesn’t mean this place is a good fit for me.”

Benny shrugs easily. “Maybe not. But they’ll be sorry to see you go. Garth and Ellen, all of them, they really do just want to help you out.”

Dean tries not to grind his teeth. “I don’t need any help.”

“We all need a little help sometimes. Ain’t nothing wrong with that. Just got to be brave enough to admit it.”

Dean bristles. “Dude, ain’t it your job to keep me locked up here rather than to head shrink me?”

“My job is to keep everyone safe. I told you, this ain’t a prison. I’m just chatting. You look like you need a friend.”

“What I need is for people to stop telling me what I need. And for this damn headache to go away.” Dean clasps at his temples, a wave of nausea suddenly rolling over him as a new band of pain clamps around his head.

“Dean, you okay?” Benny asks, keeping his voice low.

Dean isn’t capable of doing much more than grunting in response.

“I promise I ain’t trying to stop you from splitting, but you don’t look so hot. You want to sit back down for me?”

That does sound like a pretty good idea. Sitting back down, turns into more of a controlled fall, as the ground sways up to meet him. If Benny hadn’t been there with a steadying hand, Dean would have ended up face-planting.

“You want me to fetch Missouri?”

“Nah,” Dean says, swallowing hard as his stomach turns over. “I just… just need to sit for a minute.”

Benny drops down beside him, staying silent for long enough that Dean’s nausea begins to fade and his headache slowly eases, the meds finally kicking in. “Sorry,” Dean says, sheepishly. He figures he might have overreacted just a bit. “I’m not usually this much of an asshole.”

Benny laughs. “You ain’t that bad, Dean. Trust me, I’ve seen a few assholes pass through here and you ain’t one of them. Would it help if I said things get better?”

Dean sighs. “So, everyone keeps telling me.”

“You think there might be a reason for that?” Benny points out. “Everyone struggles for the first few days. Especially when they come off their meds.”

“Yeah?” Dean says. “You know much about being an omega, do you?”

Benny doesn’t seem put out by Dean’s dig. “I’ve been working here for five years now. I’ve learnt a bit. And it’s not like life is all roses for us alphas either, y’know. We all got our own problems. Our own prejudices to fight.”

“Really?” Dean says doubtfully, turning to look at the alpha. “Like what?”

“Well, brother,” Benny smiles at him. “If you stick around a few more days maybe I’ll tell you.”

Dean huffs. “Nice try, Benny. But I...”

“But what?” Benny asks. “What have you got to lose by sticking around another few days? Honestly? Why don’t you give us all another chance? If you still want to leave at least you’ll know you’ve given it your best shot. You don’t strike me as a quitter.”

“You sure you ain’t a head-shrinker, Benny?” Dean asks wryly. To be honest, talking to Benny is a damn sight easier than talking to any of the people that do profess to be brain-doctors around here.

“I’m sure.” Benny grins at him. “Maybe I just like the thought of your grumpy face being around for a while longer. Or maybe it’s your pretty car I’m fond of.”

“Dude, you keep your dirty paws off my baby,” Dean warns, not entirely joking.

Benny laughs. “Don’t you worry, your lady is safe and sound, locked up in the garage. She’ll be ready to go when you are.”

“Well,” Dean says, after taking a deep breath and actually considering Benny’s advice. “I guess I could wait a few more days to see her again.”

“Yeah?” Benny says.

Dean shrugs. “I suppose I could give this place another chance. There are some decent folks around here.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, that Charlie chick is pretty cool,” Dean winks.

Benny laughs. “That she is. I wouldn’t let her hear you calling her a chick though.”

Benny’s right about that. And maybe about the sticking around thing too. For a few days at least. Like Benny said, what does Dean have to lose?

**CHAPTER THREE**

Parties suck. And this one sucks more than most. Dean’s nose is still pretty sensitive and there must be around fifty people in the room. The smell is almost overwhelming.

“Your nose is still super sensitive, huh?” Charlie asks, handing Dean a glass, which Dean hopes is full of something stronger than water. He takes a sip. It is not. He lifts the glass and glares mournfully at it. Charlie smirks. “Hydration is key, Dean.”

“Key to what? Lame parties?”

“Anyone ever told you you’re hilarious?”

“Not lately.”

“I'm not surprised. Drink your water.”

Dean does as he’s told, without enthusiasm. “Who are all these people anyway?”

Charlie scans the crowded room. “Well, there’s all of us residents. And there are most of the alphas who are currently courting or want to be courting us. And then there’s the staff and some of their partners. Friends of the Den, and by that, I mean people who give us donations. Oh, and there’s an agent from the Omega Welfare Services. They like to keep their beady eyes on us.”

Dean tries to spot the agent amongst the crowd, but apparently they don’t actually have horns and a tail, so it’s impossible to tell them apart from the non-assholes.

“So,” he says, instead, “anyone here courting you?”

“Maybe,” Charlie says blithely, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “I have my fans you know.”

“I’m sure you do. Any of them you’re actually interested in?”

Charlie gestures across the room. “Well, there’s Dorothy, over by the buffet pretending to be interested in the quiche and there’s Gilda across there talking to Missouri.”

Dean nods his approval. “Very hot. So, you’re into the ladies, huh?”

Charlie narrows her eyes at him. “So, what if I am?”

“Hey, that’s cool. Each to their own. No judgement from me.”

“What about you?” Charlie asks.

“I’m an equal opportunity kind of guy,” Dean admits. Between looking after Sam and working shifts at the grocery store and gas station, he hasn’t had much time for a social life lately. He did sleep with a few girls back in high school. Something which his dad was weirdly proud of when he found out... thank you small town gossip. Dean guesses it was easier for John Winchester to ignore that Dean was an omega if he was screwing around with girls. He probably wouldn’t be so proud if ever found out about the furtive handjobs Dean had exchanged with a few guys in the club at the edge of town. 

“Equal opportunity? So, you aren’t a virgin then?”

Dean glares at Ash as he joins them, another omega, Becky, by his side.

“You’re a virgin?” she squeals, loudly. “That’s so sweet, Dean.” Becky’s voice is high-pitched enough to grate eardrums.

“I’m not a virgin,” Dean snaps. “Damnit, Ash.”

“Well, what do we have here. So many charming omegas gathered together. Shouldn’t you all be mingling with the guests?”

Dean wrinkles his nose as the air around them turns almost vinegary.

“Yo, Zach, how's it hanging, dude?” Ash slaps the new guy on the back, ignoring the way it makes the man’s jowly face turn purple. “Dean, this is Zach. One of our local welfare agents.”

That explains the smell then. It’s reassuring to know that even when Dean’s nose is defective he can still sniff out low life. Maybe some Omega Welfare agents are decent people, but the few that Dean has dealt with in the past have all been condescending morons. Looking at Zach, smelling him, Dean figures he’s definitely another one to add to the moron column.

“Zachariah Adler,” the guy says, giving Ash a dark look before extending his hand to Dean. “And you must be Dean Winchester, the guest of honor. I’m so pleased you finally accepted our invitation to the Den. We were beginning to worry you’d need a little persuasion.”

Dean grimaces as he wiped his palm on the thigh of his jeans after shaking the agent's sweaty hand.

Zachariah carries on speaking, glibly ignoring the scowls he’s gathering from the small group. “But if I hear right, you’ve been saving yourself for your mate. A noble and clever move, Dean. A virgin bride is what most alphas dream of.”

The glass of water trembles dangerously in Dean’s hand. He’s a second away from throwing it in Adler’s pudgy face.

“I’m not…” is all Dean manages to grit out through his teeth before Ellen arrives, smoothly lifting the glass of water from Dean’s hand and slotting herself between him and Zachariah.

“Zachariah, how lovely to see you again. Charlie, why don’t you go ahead and introduce Dean to some of our guests. You all should be mingling, isn’t that right, Mr. Adler. Tell me, how is your lovely wife?”

Ash and Becky disappear swiftly in one direction while Charlie grabs Dean’s arm and drags him away in the other.

“What a goddamn asswipe,” Dean seethes. “I should have punched his smarmy face. I would have done if I’d had another minute. Why the hell did Ellen have to step in so quickly?”

Charlie looks up at Dean as though figuring out whether he is genuinely asking or not. “Well, for one, she’s like a mom, she sees everything that happens in her house. And two, your scent, Dean. Every alpha and omega in that room probably smelled how mad you were.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Well, fuck. So, what, I’m broadcasting my emotions to everyone, all the time?”

“Dean, do you know anything about alphas and omegas, seriously?”

Dean snatches his hand away from Charlie’s, folding his arms over his chest instead.

Charlie slaps his shoulder. “Don’t be like that. I’m just surprised. Alpha and omega biology is usually covered at least basically in most schools.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean mutters. “School and I didn’t get on that well. I might have skipped some classes.”

Instead of asking him why his parents never sat him down and explained his biology to him, or why his doctor never did, or why Dean never got a damn book out from the library and figured this shit out for himself, Charlie simply nods and gives him the Cliff notes.

“Okay then, there’s a few books you should probably read, but basically yes, omegas’ and alphas’ scents change depending on their moods. Usually it’s only a slight variation of their usual scent so you wouldn’t notice unless you were up close and personal with them, but right now, with you just off the blockers, your scent is pretty strong. It’ll settle down in another day or so, but yeah, Ellen probably knew you wanted to punch Zachariah before you did.”

“I hate being an omega,” Dean huffs, sounding like a petulant three-year-old. He’s mortified, even more so knowing that everyone here can probably sense his embarrassment now as well.

“Dude,” Charlie slaps him again. “It’s not that bad. It works both ways. You’ll have an amazing sense of smell too. Once your senses adjust. Just think of it like a super power. Your own early warning system. Helps you sniff out alphas with anger issues and omegas in need of help.”

“It’s a sucky superpower,” Dean complains.

“Don’t tell me,” Charlie jokes, “you’d rather be able to fly.”

“God, no,” Dean shudders at the thought. “I prefer to keep my feet firmly on the ground, thank you very much.”

It doesn’t take long before Charlie is seduced away from Dean’s side by Gilda with Dorothy trailing determinedly after them. It must be nice, Dean surprises himself by thinking, to know that someone wants you. Charlie certainly isn’t short on confidence as she beckons Dorothy to join them, laughing and enjoying the attention of both alphas.

Without the safety net of Charlie by his side, Dean works his way steadily towards the edges of the party. He doesn’t know many people here, and he’s uncomfortable knowing that a lot of them can sense his unease. On top of that, he has a blinding headache gnawing away behind his eyes. He fully plans on escaping to the safe haven of his room as quickly as possible.

Unfortunately, not everyone is onboard with that plan. “Well, hello, beautiful, you’re new here.”

The problem with having edged away from the party to a darkened corner of the room, frustratingly close to the door, is that Dean has lost sight of the few people he knows. He’s perfectly capable of dealing with obnoxious alphas on his own, but he’s not sure just how forceful he’s allowed to be here without getting himself, and Ellen, into shit with Zachariah’s lot.

“Yep,” Dean says, taking a step back from the alpha. The man is older than Dean’s dad with a paunch that speaks of long boozy lunches and a scent that leaves Dean trying not to breathe in through his nose.

“And how do you like Fairdale so far?” the man asks, pressing into Dean’s personal space as though it doesn’t exist.

“It’s fine, I guess,” Dean replies, sidestepping around him and nodding towards the door. “Excuse me, buddy, I was just leaving.”

“Hey now,” the alpha says, moving with him so he’s still planted between Dean and the door. “Don’t be like that. I haven’t even introduced myself yet.”

“No offence, man,” Dean says, bluntly. “But I’m not interested.”

The alpha blinks stupidly. “Well, that’s ridiculous. You don’t even know me. I might be the alpha of your dreams.”

Dean looks at the drink in the guy’s hand, and the way he’s waving it about and wonders just how much he’s imbibed already this evening. “Dude, trust me, you’re not. Now move out of my fucking way before I move you.”

It’s not Ellen who swoops in to save the day this time, it’s a guy Dean’s never seen before, tall, grey-haired, sharply dressed and smelling downright edible despite Dean’s skewed senses. “Is everything okay here, gentlemen?”

“Peachy,” Dean snaps, because he’s not a damsel in distress and he doesn’t need saving. Not even by a handsome alpha who smells mouth-wateringly like freshly baked pie crust. “I was just leaving.”

“Hey, hold on,” the obnoxious alpha says, arms flailing in an attempt to grab Dean’s wrist. The only thing he succeeds in doing is splashing whisky all over the both of them.

On reflex, Dean yanks his fist back to throw a punch, but before he succeeds in laying the douchebag out, his knight in grey-tailored armor smoothly intercedes. Somehow, he separates Dean and the jackass in one effortless manoeuvre that manages not to cause a commotion and also quietly extracts Dean from the room.

On the one hand, Dean is grudgingly impressed, on the other, he’s Dean Winchester so he’s not going to admit that. “I can handle myself,” he complains, smoothing down the sleeve of his shirt. “I don’t need some macho alpha with a hero complex swooping in to save the day.”

“My apologies, Dean,” the alpha says with a calm smile that manages to puncture the last of Dean’s indignation. “I thought perhaps you’d prefer not to brawl in the middle of your own party.”

“A brawl might have made me feel more at home, to be honest,” Dean admits. “He ain’t exactly the first guy to think it’s okay to put his hands on me.” It’s weird how much this guy’s scent, and the surprisingly soft cadence of his voice, is doing to ease the pain behind his eyes. “How’d you know who I am anyway?”

The guy holds out his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry I haven't introduced myself. I’m Cain. Cain Knight. I work here at Fairdale.”

“Seriously?” Dean asks, smirking, and shaking the offered hand, which is large and warm and has a strength that leaves Dean’s skin tingling. “You’re a knight?”

“Seriously,” the guy replies, his sky-blue eyes twinkling. “Without the shining armor, I’m afraid.”

“Just as well,” Dean says. “I imagine a dude turning up in a suit of armor would cause more of a scene than me punching out some jackass.”

Cain tilts his head. “You may be correct. Although both would certainly be entertaining.”

“Yeah, it would have livened up this shindig, huh?”

“You weren’t enjoying yourself?”

Dean shrugs. He doesn’t want to seem like an ungrateful asshole, but he’s not going to lie either. “Well, the food is awesome, but I’m not really a party kind of guy.”

“So you were attempting to make a tactical retreat?”

“I don’t know about tactical,” Dean admits. “Cowardly maybe.”

“I doubt that,” Cain replies, sternly. “From what I’ve heard and witnessed, I'd say you are far from cowardly, Dean. Quite the opposite, in fact.”

Goosebumps break out across Dean’s arms at the alpha’s stern tone. He’s not sure whether he should be afraid or turned on. The fresh wave of the alpha’s scent that accompanies his words nudges Dean firmly in the direction of turned on. If he didn’t have awesome restraint and the little self-respect he does, Dean would be tempted to lean in and sniff at the man’s neck. 

“I would offer to escort you back to your room,” Cain continues, apparently oblivious to the effect he’s having on Dean. “But, as you said, you are perfectly capable of handling yourself?”

Dean coughs and feels his cheeks turn pink under the alpha’s steady gaze. He’s not entirely sure if the innuendo is deliberate. “I… uh, yeah,” he mumbles, unintelligibly. “I can. Do that. Handle… things. I handle myself fine. All the time. I’m gonna stop talking… and go… handle myself... in my room.” Dean walks backwards for a few steps before turning and fleeing, his cheeks flaming. 

He feels Cain’s eyes trained on him until he turns the corner and disappears up the stairway to his room.

A part of him wishes that the alpha had followed. It’s a ridiculous thought. Cain works at Fairdale. He’s not here to find a mate. Given his age and unfairly gorgeous looks, it’s more than likely he’s already been snapped up by some lucky omega anyway. Dean tells himself he isn’t a little disappointed.

A couple of days after the party his senses level out. To his relief, Dean can finally leave his room without feeling like his nose is under attack and his head is in danger of exploding. His sense of smell has improved just like Charlie said it would, but the aromas around him are not as overpowering or invasive as they were. Smells are sharper, clearer; he can pick out the cinnamon and nutmeg amongst the apple and buttery pie crust when they serve dessert in the dining room, but the jars of flowers on the tables no longer turn him into a sneezing wreck.

Charlie still has a comforting scent and Garth’s aftershave still makes his nose itch every time he tries to hug Dean, but his sharpened sense of smell doesn’t feel strange now, just like a part of who Dean is.

What does feel strange is Dean going on a date.

Well, not really _going_ on a date. But someone, an alpha obviously, is coming to Fairdale to meet Dean. First dates apparently normally happen at the Den. And as this is Dean’s first first date, it’s definitely happening here.

To be honest, Dean isn’t sure if the precaution is for his sake or the alpha’s. Word had somehow gotten back to Ellen that Dean almost punched an alpha at the party the other night and she wasn’t pleased with the alpha or him. Apparently, it’s not seemly to cause a fight when an alpha is simply looking for an introduction. Even if that alpha is an imbecile. She’s added a no punching people unless it’s in self-defense addendum to the house rules. Whatever. Dean’s never been a stickler for the rules.

Anyway, Dean’s waiting in what is apparently the conservatory for his date to show up. Even if he hates them on sight, he’s supposed to spend at least an hour or two getting to know them. The alpha has to get his money’s worth. Because oh, yes, the alphas pay a fee to be on the registry at each Den and apparently that secures them a date with every omega the Den thinks may be compatible.

Dean thought Dens were safe places for omegas to find a match. He didn’t realize alphas had to pay for the privilege. It makes him feel a little like a cheap whore, even if he’s not the one the money is going to. At least Ellen has made it very clear there is to be no physical contact, definitely not on the first date. A handshake, she says, is the limit.

Dean’s never been a dating kind of guy, not since high school. So, this whole ordeal is nerve wracking. He has no idea what he’s supposed to talk about with a stranger.

“Dean?” 

Dean stands up when a guy enters the room. He’s shorter than Dean, smallish for an alpha, cute in a goofy kind of way and with a nice smile which is definitely something Dean can appreciate.

“Yes.” Dean stands up. “Sorry, they didn’t tell me your name.”

“Aaron Bass,” the guy introduces himself. They shake hands briefly, and Dean grabs the opportunity to take in Aaron’s scent, which turns out to be disappointingly nondescript, not unpleasant, just not much of anything. It’s an anticlimactic moment really, not exactly the first-meeting that movies always seemed to show. Dean would feel bad, but Aaron doesn’t seem immediately overcome by Dean’s scent either. They stare at each other silently for a moment before Dean catches on to the fact the Aaron’s waiting for Dean to sit back down before he sits. It’s so incredibly awkward that Dean has to smile as they both finally sit opposite each other.

“I’m sorry. This is my first time at the whole dating thing,” Dean admits. “I’m not sure how it’s supposed to go.”

Thankfully, Aaron smiles back. “I’ve only been on a few myself,” he says. “I’m not sure it gets any less awkward. So… do you um… do you like it here?”

Dean didn’t appreciate how long two hours was until he was forced to make conversation with a total stranger for that length of time. A total stranger with whom he has pretty much nothing in common. And absolutely no attraction to. It’s excruciating. Dean isn’t sure who’s happiest when the two hours are up, but Aaron books it out of there pretty rapidly, not even trying for another handshake never mind an illicit kiss. It’s a safe bet, Dean thinks, that Aaron won’t be requesting a second date.

Dean spends most of dinner complaining to Charlie about how badly the afternoon went. She has a few tales of disastrous first dates that make him feel both a little better and a little more worried about what he might still have to go through.

When Garth takes him aside after dinner Dean presumes it’s to tell him that it’s a no from Aaron.

“Good news, Dean,” he says. “Aaron has requested a second date.”

Dean blinks stupidly for a moment. “What? Why?”

Garth’s smile falters. “Because he likes you.”

Dean groans. “But he doesn’t. Trust me, I was on the same date as him. There was no chemistry. None.”

“That’s not what Aaron seemed to think. Are you sure he wasn’t just a tad shy? Some alphas don’t like to come on too strong in case they scare you off.”

“Dude, no. Aaron couldn’t scare a kitten. No, man. Just… no.”

Garth looks as disappointed as Dean has ever seen him. “You couldn’t just give him another shot? He seemed pretty smitten. Second dates are…”

“No way.” It’s bad enough having to suffer through awkward first dates. Dean is not subjecting himself to car crash second dates too. “I’m sorry, Garth, but he really ain’t my type.”

“He’s cute,” Garth argues. “And sweet. And funny. And he comes from old money.”

“And he smells as interesting as wallpaper paste.”

Garth pouts at him. “You’re going to be a tough nut to crack, I can already tell. Well, fine, if you’re sure, Mr. Grumpypants, but next time don’t be leading those poor alphas on.”

Dean gapes after him as Garth walks away. There was no leading on. Definitely not. There were polite smiles and lame jokes, there was no leading.

God, you’re not allowed to punch alphas and you can’t be nice to them without leading them on. Fine. Next time Dean has a bad first date, he’s just going to be honest.

  
“Did you have to be quite so blunt?”

Ellen is not happy.

Dean’s not exactly dancing for joy either.

“I was being honest, Ellen. What did you want me to say?”

Ellen sighs heavily and puts her hands on her waist. “Perhaps not that poor Chuck smelled like an unwashed bathrobe. Or that he should think about trimming his beard. And you absolutely should not have asked him if he really thought writing was the best career choice. He’s a very nice alpha, Dean. You almost made him cry.”

“He almost made me cry when he read me an excerpt from his latest book, Ellen. What was I supposed to do, just sit there and smile?”

“Yes,” Ellen says. “That’s exactly what you should have done.”

Dean feels like throwing something in frustration. Seriously. There is no logic here. He can’t be nice. He can’t be honest. He can’t punch people. It’s not leaving him many options.

The worst thing is, Chuck still requested a second date. Dean does not understand alphas at all.  
  


Third time's the charm, Garth says the following week when Dean’s next date is scheduled. Dean doubts it very much. But he’s polite. Well, he’s not rude at least. He doesn’t mention that the alpha’s scent is less appealing than Chuck’s unwashed bathrobe smell, and he smiles and nods when the pretentious prick prattles on in what has to be a fake British accent about wine and religious antiques for almost the whole two hours, only stopping to ask Dean if he owns a suit. He barely stops talking long enough to listen to Dean’s answer.

And what does silent politeness and a bored expression win him? A request for a second date.

“No fucking way,” Dean says.

“Balthazar said you were charming, despite your shyness,” Ellen informs him, her disbelief obvious when she utters the word shyness.

“I’d rather eat my own eyeballs than listen to that arrogant asswipe brag about his collection of ancient weapons again,” Dean tells her. “And by the way, there’s only one reason a man brags about the size of his blade and it’s not because he has a giant d— “

“Fine!” Ellen cuts him off. “It’s a no for Balthazar. Maybe we should try something different next time.”

“Well, it can’t get any worse than this, can it?” Dean says.

Dean’s an idiot. Of course it can.

The venue for Dean’s fourth date moves from the conservatory to the library. Garth and Ellen seem to think a change of scenery might put Dean at ease. Dean didn’t even know they had a library in the Den. The room is comfortable enough with huge leather sofas amid the bookshelves but libraries have always been more of Sam’s natural habitat than Dean’s.

He’s paging through a book named very imaginatively, “A History of Omega Rights in America” when his date strides into the room.

She’s tall, beautiful, and classy. And immediately stares at Dean as though he’s something foul that she’s just peeled off the sole of her Manolo Blahniks.

She doesn’t sit down and she doesn’t offer Dean her hand.

“Well,” she says, and awesome, another snobby British accent. Dean thought they were trying something different. “You looked much prettier in your photos. Tell me, do you have access to a mirror and a razor in this place?”

Dean’s hand jumps up to his chin, which he’s deliberately left some scruff on, thank you very much. “I thought it looked sexy,” he blurts out, caught off guard.

“It looks like you can’t afford to shave and that apparently you got dressed in the dark. Is that a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt?” she asks with disdain.

“It’s clean,” Dean says. Which okay, not exactly smooth but he wasn’t prepared for a character assassination in the first three seconds of meeting his date. He doesn’t even know her name yet.

“High standards, I see,” she smirks and walks in a circle around him. “Still, I imagine you might scrub up reasonably well with some effort. You do have a couple of rather attractive features under those appalling clothes.”

“I… what…?” Dean crosses his arms over his chest, more than a little skeeved out by her scrutinizing stare. “Hey, don't objectify me, lady.”

“Bela,” the alpha says. “Bela Talbot. I hear you’re a virgin, Dean, is that true?”

“I am not a freaking virgin,” Dean snaps back at her. “I haven’t been a virgin since I was in high school. Not. A. Virgin.”

“Hmm, sounds a lot like you’re overcompensating to me.”

“How did you even hear about that?” Dean snarls.

“Darling, I hear everything.” Bela examines her manicure with a bored expression.

The worst thing is she would be smoking hot if she wasn’t a raging bitch. And while her scent isn’t exactly pleasant, it is exotic. But Dean has standards, goddamn it, and he’s not going to just stand there and—

“So, Dean, fancy a shag?”

Dean’s jaw drops so quickly he swears it almost dislocates.

“I’m sure the table is sturdy enough.”

“But we haven’t even... I don’t…” Dean is having difficulties forming sentences now. “Lady, you’re insane.”

“Come now, Dean.” Bela smiles. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had hate sex before.”

Benny escorts Bela off the property a short time later.

Dean’s not sure he wouldn’t have given in and gone for it if Becky hadn’t wandered in looking for a book on her newest obsession and raised the alarm when she found Bela all but chasing Dean around the sofas.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Ellen says, later in the dining room. “I can’t imagine what got into Bela today, we’ve never had any problem with her before. Have we?”

Ash and Charlie shake their heads solemnly. Until Ellen leaves the room. Then Ash says, “Man, I totally banged her. Hate sex is hot as hell!”

Dean gapes at him.

Charlie at least looks bashful when she chimes in. “Um, yeah, me too. She might be a bitch but she‘s got a wicked tongue.”

“What about the rules?” Dean says, staring around him and wondering how many other people Bela has screwed.

“Dude,” Ash laughs. “Rules are made to be broken. No wonder you’re a virgin, you’re so uptight, man.”

Dean doesn’t punch him, but it’s a close-run thing. 

  
  
  


**CHAPTER FOUR**

Three weeks and another seven disastrous dates later, Ellen and Garth make Dean sift through all his paperwork again in an effort to figure out why not one of the alphas so far has been close to compatible for him. Dean is adamant that he was honest the first time around. He really doesn’t think it’s his fault the dates have all been a bust.

Honestly, he’s starting to come to the conclusion that he’s just not cut out for this dating malarkey.

Meanwhile Charlie is still swithering between her two alpha suitors who both adore her, and who both are steaming hot and who are both non-psychotic. Even Ash has an alpha desperate to mate with him. And Becky’s now dating Chuck. Apparently after one date they were already on the cusp of running away together. It would be cute if it wasn’t so sickening.

Dean is taking solace in pie. It’s just as well he has a quick metabolism and doesn’t easily put on weight.

“How’s it hanging, dude?“ Ash says, tossing his hair over his shoulder and pulling up a seat beside Dean. “You know, you’re getting a bit on the chubby side there, Winchester, you might want to ease off on the pie.”

“You shut your mouth,” Dean says, stubbornly finishing off the last scraping of delicious blueberry filling, before licking the spoon clean.

“So,” Ash says. “Party tonight, Deano.”

Dean groans dramatically, and not just because that was his third helping of pie. “What for this time?”

“Hell if I know. Think maybe one of us bagged an alpha. Point is, party! Food, music, beer, good times.”

Dean sighs, and drops his head down onto the table with a solid-sounding thud. “I hate parties.”

“Man, you’re a buzzkill,” Ash says, giving Dean’s shoulder a commiserating pat. “What’s the problem, bro?”

“Me,” Dean says, twisting his neck so he can look up at Ash. “I’m the problem. I don’t even know why. What’s wrong with me? I know I’m not exactly a stereotypical omega, but it’s not like many of us are. You aren’t. Charlie isn’t. Becky… Becky kind of is. But god, if y’all can find a match, why can’t I?”

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself. Give it some time, amigo,” Ash says, unusually serious. “You’ve only been here a couple of months.”

“And I haven’t gone on one second date. Or met a single alpha that I actually like. Well, not one that’s looking for a mate.” There are a couple of alphas he’s met that seem like nice guys. And who are insanely hot. But seeing as how Cain and Benny both work at Fairdale and are not in the market for a slightly dysfunctional omega, they don’t really count.

Oh… but, that’s one good thing about a party, Dean suddenly realizes. Benny should be there keeping an eye on things and Cain is usually hanging around too, so Dean’s pretty much guaranteed some eye candy for the night. That’s some consolation at least.

  
The party is sadly lacking in eye candy. Dean has been hiding behind a giant potted plant for the best part of an hour now, ever since he saw Zachariah on the prowl. It’s not the worst hiding place, he at least remembered to snag a couple of bottles of beer before he hunkered down. The main problem is the lack of an attractive alpha to moon over.

Benny is apparently dealing with something somewhere not here, and the mysterious Cain Knight is nowhere to be seen. Dean would console himself with the delicious little cheesesteak sandwiches from the buffet, but truth be told, his dress pants were on the tight side when he put them on tonight. Ash may have had a point.

Charlie is dancing with Gilda, inelegant but so wholly unselfconscious that Dean can’t help but smile as he watches them. They’re the only ones dancing, and they don’t care. Dean would feel sorry for Dorothy but ten minutes ago she was feeding Charlie tiny cupcakes, so he doubts Charlie has come to a decision yet.

“They’re beautiful,” a deep voice says from behind Dean. He startles so violently, literally jumping, that he almost knocks the plant over and gives away his hiding place.

“Jesus,” Dean gasps. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“The buffet,” a guy, dressed in a wrinkled business suit and an honest-to-God trench coat replies. “They have delicious little steak sandwiches.”

Dean doesn’t know what to make of that. Or of this guy. This alpha. Now that Dean’s heart rate has slowed back down to normal and he actually takes in the man that sneaked up on him, he can tell the dude’s an alpha, one with a surprising but decidedly pleasant mellow scent. And the brightest blue eyes Dean has ever seen.

“Beautiful,” Dean echoes, before it dawns on him they aren’t talking about the same thing. “What’s beautiful?”

The alpha’s nose scrunches a little in confusion as he looks at Dean. “The young ladies you were watching on the dance floor. They are very beautiful.”

“Damn right they are,” Dean says shortly, now highly suspicious that this alpha is perving on his friend. And okay, perhaps a little jealous that yet another alpha has fallen for Charlie’s admittedly awesome charm. “And they’re together. Kind of. I’m sure Charlie isn’t up for any more alpha’s chasing her around anyway. Not that _you’d_ stand a chance.”

“Oh,” the alpha looks slightly crestfallen at that.

“I mean, she’s into chicks.” Dean clarifies, when it occurs to him how rude that must have sounded. “Not that you aren’t cute.”

“You think I’m cute?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says. “You’ve got the bedhead hair and the eyes. You’re a real catch.” And boy, is it getting warm in here or what, Dean thinks, tugging at his shirt collar. He should have stuck to jeans and a tee-shirt, but he’d figured he should make an effort for once. Not to impress Cain or Benny, but y’know, just because.

The alpha gives Dean a lop-sided smile. “Well, thank you. You’re very cute too.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah.” The alpha was drooling over Charlie and Gilda a second ago. Dean obviously isn’t his type. “Look, dude—”

“Cas,” the alpha interjects.

“What now?”

“Cas. It’s my name. Rather than dude. Well, it’s Castiel to be truthful, but I don’t mind certain people calling me Cas.”

That was a lot of words to tell Dean his name. Dean loses his train of thought midway through. The alpha has very pink lips. And very nice teeth. And… _teeth_ , really, Dean?

Dean gives himself a shake. “Right, Uh, Cas.”

“And you are Dean Winchester?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says. “How did you know?”

He’s sure he hasn’t seen this guy around before. He’d definitely remember.

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you.”

“Um, okay.” That’s a little disconcerting.

“Castiel, what are you doing hiding in a dark corner with our pretty little omega?”

Dean’s hiding place is well and truly busted. Dean shoots Cas an accusatory glare. Now he has to deal with Zach’s smarmy comments.

“Zachariah,” Cas says, edging just in front of Dean so he’s standing between them. Dean almost shivers with how cold Cas’ voice has turned. He barely sounds like the same alpha. “I see you’re enjoying Ellen’s hospitality once again.”

“All part of the job. Got to keep an eye on things. Make sure our omegas are being given every opportunity to meet a suitable match.”

Cas stares pointedly at the glass of red wine in Zachariah’s hand. “So, you’re here in a professional capacity then?”

Zachariah blusters and stutters trying to come up with a retort. Dean shoots him a smug grin from over Cas’ shoulder. If he didn’t like the nerdy alpha before he sure does now. (Okay, admittedly he did before but he likes him even more now.)

Eventually Adler decides to ignore Cas’ question completely, zeroing in on Dean instead. “So, no luck bagging an alpha yet, Deano?”

“Not yet, no,” Dean says tightly, his grin fading.

“Shame, shame,” Zachariah says, with slightly too much glee. “Perhaps Ellen’s files need some updating. I’ve been suggesting for years she should relax her regulations. Allow a wider range of alphas onto her books. It’s not easy matching the more unusual omega with an interested alpha.”

The look he gives Dean when he says _unusual_ flushes every insecurity Dean has straight to the surface. He knows he’s not the perfect example of an omega. He’s a guy first of all. And he’s tall, and broad shouldered and he has an attitude that is often described as spirited by those being kind and belligerent by those who are more honest. He’s nobody’s idea of a perfect anything.

“Still,” Zachariah continues. “Being a virgin, especially at your age, is one thing in your favor at least.”

Before Dean can protest, yet again, that he’s far from a virgin, thank you very fucking much, or, as he really wants to do, punch Zachariah in the throat, Cas advances on the agent.

“That’s enough!” The hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stand on end at Cas’ growl. “For someone who professes to care about omega welfare, your outdated perceptions and disrespect are astounding.”

Instead of yelling back, defending himself, Zachariah backs down straight away. It makes Dean wonder who exactly Cas is. If he has some special power to scare off douchenozzles. Not one to beat around the bush, he asks Cas a few minutes later when Zachariah has bleated some excuse and beat a retreat.

“I don’t possess any special powers that I’m aware of and I’m certainly no one of any great import,” Cas says.

Dean calls bullshit.

“Honestly,” Cas says, wide-eyed and guileless.

Dean’s skeptical scoff says it all.

“I’m really not,” Cas insists, hesitating before adding a vital caveat. “My family however are rather rich and, I suppose, well known in certain circles. They are... old money, I think the expression is.”

That makes sense. If there’s one thing Zachariah respects it would be money. Especially old money which usually comes with a decent amount of power, connections, and sway. Dean’s not sure whether the fact this alpha is loaded makes him more or less attractive. Usually Dean would say less, but the fact that he apparently has the power to make Zachariah disappear is definitely a mark in the plus column.

Not that Dean is even thinking along those lines. There is no point in pinning his hopes on this alpha. Because one thing is for sure, if Cas is as rich as Croesus he’s not going to be interested in an omega like Dean.

Dean steps out from his dark corner. Now that Zachariah’s scuttled off, he might as well stop hiding. And he could use another drink. Cas sticks by his side as Dean makes his way to the small bar beside the buffet table.

“So,” Dean says, trying to make conversation, seeing as how Cas seems content to hang around. “What are you doing here anyway? You in the market for an omega?”

“Omegas are not a commodity to be shopped for,” Cas says, his tone stern.

“Dude,” Dean says, grabbing another bottle of beer. “You’re at a Den. That is essentially an omega supermarket for alphas.”

Cas scrunches his face up. Dean tries not to find the wrinkles that form across his forehead adorable. “That’s not… I don’t believe that’s true, Dean. I hope that’s not how you feel about being here.”

Dean takes a pull of his beer before he answers. “Not entirely,” he admits. “It’s not like us omegas don’t have any say in the matter. But, let’s be honest, having heat sickness hanging over our heads like a guillotine is gonna make some omegas settle at the first sniff of a suitable alpha.”

“And you, Dean?” Cas asks, solemnly. “Will you settle?”

“Nah,” Dean says, with a small smile. “I reckon I’d rather take my chances with heat sickness than be stuck with some asshole for the rest of my life.”

Cas nods as though he’s not surprised. “And you haven’t met any non-asshole alphas you think you might like to spend the rest of your life with?”

“Well, I have met a few non-asshole alphas,” Dean starts to say, when he sees one of said alphas heading across the room straight towards them. His heart beats just a little faster at the sight of Cain, his wild silver hair in stark contrast to his sharp suit and crisp blue shirt. Dean can actually scent him before he reaches them, and his scent is just as delicious as the first time Dean met him.

And combined with Cas’ aroma, well… Dean’s knees start to feel weak.

“Dean,” Cain greets him. “How delightful to see you again.”

Dean can’t help the goofy smile he gives in return. “And you. Although, I’m not in need of a knight this time around.”

“I can see that. Not with Cas by your side. He may be named after an angel but he’s as fearsome as any warrior.” Cain presses a kiss to Cas’ cheek, before placing his hand at the small of the other alpha’s back. Cas rolls his eyes but his expression is one of fond exasperation.

Dean’s smile freezes on his face. Cain and Cas are a couple. That is… unexpected.

“I… ah…” Dean fumbles for words.

“Dean was just telling me about the non-asshole alphas he has met since his arrival here,” Cas supplies. “It seems as though they are in short supply.”

Dean, who’s having trouble formulating a response in the face of the sudden revelation that two of the few non-asshole alphas he’d found are apparently in a relationship, takes a long drink from his beer bottle. “I guess I just attract the asshole-type,” he eventually says. “It can’t be easy for Ellen to keep finding alphas that might want to date me, I’m hardly the ideal omega.”

Cas’ face does some weird contortion which Dean isn’t quite sure how to interpret.

Cain just plain scowls. “That isn’t true, Dean.”

Dean is saved from any deep and meaningful lecture by the appearance of Benny. And good god, the scent of these three alphas combined is almost too much for Dean to take. He’s surprised half of the room isn’t fainting right now.

“Alright, brother?” Benny says with a smile. “I hope these two reprobates ain’t bothering you?”

Cas elbows Benny in the ribs at the reprobate comment, but Benny only responds by pressing a kiss to his lips.

Automatically Dean glances at Cain who’s simply watching with a soft expression. Dean sucks at his beer like a drowning man, only to discover he’s slurping down the dregs from the bottom of the bottle.

“We were just chatting while we were waiting for you to finish up,” Cas tells Benny.

Dean’s having trouble figuring out the dynamics here because Cain and Cas are definitely a couple, but Cas and Benny are obviously also a couple. Also, it’s none of Dean’s damn business.

“I… ah… I’m gonna go get another drink,” Dean eventually says, excusing himself.

Benny reaches out to stop him. “Hey now, don’t run away on my account. Stay awhile and chat with us.”

The weight of the three alphas staring at him is too much. Dean’s way out of his depth, and the smell that seems to be growing heavier as it envelops him is driving him out of his mind. He’s never wanted to drop to his knees for an alpha before, never wanted to do anything with an alpha before, but it’s taking all Dean’s willpower right now just to stay upright.

“Nah,” Dean says, backing away. “I don’t want to bother you guys. You’re obviously… um… yeah….”

It’s not Dean’s proudest moment and it’s one he’ll look back on and cringe over, but there’s no way to describe his next move other than running away. It’s a new low as far as his social skills go.

He ends up retreating all the way to his room where he jerks off so frantically he near as dammit gives himself friction burns.

Yeah. Not his finest moment.

  
  
“This is the one,” Garth tells Dean confidently. “I can feel it in my bones.”

“Uhuh,” Dean says, shoving his hands in his pockets. This dating thing is getting old fast. Dean doesn’t know how much more of it he can take.

“You know, Mr. Glumguts, these dates might go better if you weren’t such a sour puss.”

Dean might not be radiating enthusiasm but he figures Garth is filled with more than enough positivity for the both of them. “I’m just being myself. Isn’t that what you and Ellen told me to do?”

“How about you be you but with a sunnier disposition?”

“How about you let me turn up to one of these things with a bottle of whisky?” Dean suggests. “I guarantee that’ll improve my disposition by at least fifty percent.”

Garth’s eyes widen and he looks about two seconds away from breaking out Mr. Fizzles to warn Dean all about the dangers of alcohol.

“Jeez, Garth I’m joking,” Dean says.

Garth frowns dubiously and wrings his hands. He should. Dean’s really not joking.

“Just give this alpha a shot,” Garth settles for. “I think he could be a good fit for you.”

Dean doubts it but he pastes a fake-ass smile on his face to appease Garth.

They’re trying the library again for this introduction. Dean has discovered that he actually likes it there. It’s a peaceful sanctuary away from the constant do-gooding nosiness of every inhabitant of the Den trying to _help_ him. An hour or two of blissful peace and quiet with a decent book has become a real comfort. He’s not had the time to read much over the past few years. Reading became far more of a chore than a pleasure when he was trying to get through high school, at the same time as looking after Sammy and dealing with his dad. Dean had somehow forgotten that once upon a time books were an escape and not just work.

The alpha is already waiting, sitting relaxed in a leather armchair, when Dean opens the door and steps in. “Well, aren’t you a pretty one,” is his opening gambit.

Dean very nearly walks straight back out again. If he hadn’t promised Garth he’d give this guy a proper shot, he would. He settles on rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Seriously? You need to work on your pickup lines, dude.”

“Oh, spunky _and_ pretty, I can see why Ellen thought I’d like you.”

Dean bristles under the alpha’s appraising look. And then gives as good as he gets, blatantly looking the man up and down when he stands up. He’s not what you’d call classically good looking. Thinning hair, and a bit of a paunch aren’t attributes Dean finds hot. But Dean would be lying if he said there wasn’t something vaguely attractive about him. Maybe it’s the way he holds himself, his confidence. The way his clothes are tailored, his suit and coat obviously expensive but not flashy or ostentatious. His scent is…. different. It doesn’t make Dean’s mouth water or spike his senses the way other (less available) alphas have, but it doesn’t make him want to throw up either.

“Well, I’m still trying to figure out what she was thinking,” Dean snarks.

The alpha smirks. “Aren’t you the charming one.”

“I like to think so.”

“Crowley,” the alpha says, holding his hand out.

Dean looks at him blankly. 

“It’s my name, darling,” the alpha drawls. “Introductions are the norm at these types of things, yes?”

Dean knows he’s supposed to be playing nice but there’s no way he’s just letting this guy snark at him like he’s an idiot. “So, Crowley, you’re a bit old to not be mated, aren’t you? Can’t find an omega to settle down with?” Dean reaches out and shakes the alpha’s hand. The alpha doesn’t let go, holding onto Dean’s hand and staring into his eyes like he’s trying to see down into his soul.

“I haven’t found the perfect omega, yet,” Crowley returns, finally releasing Dean’s hand.

“And why is that?” Dean asks. “Your witty repartee put them off?”

“Hardly,” Crowley says. “I think perhaps my huge cock scares them away.”

Dean can’t help his bark of laughter especially when Crowley wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

“Are you sure it isn’t your huge ego?”

“Darling, my ego is entirely deserved. I’m good looking, incredibly successful, rich, suave, sophisticated and generously endowed. Most people would sell their souls to be me.”

“And yet, here you are, trying to woo an omega loser, who only just scraped through high school, and can barely afford to buy gas for his car.”

“And yet you’re the most interesting omega I’ve met in years.”

Dean snorts. “Dude, you need to get out more.”

“Was that an invitation?”

“God, you think you’re smooth, huh?”

“Darling, I know I’m smooth. And I know you’re not as unimpressed as you’re pretending. I can smell your interest from here.”

Dean takes a very large step backwards.

“Oh, don't go all coy on me now. I know you’re not shy.”

“No,” Dean says. “But I do have standards and you just slithered below them.”

Crowley grins and sits back down. “Oh boy… this is going to be fun.”

Charlie gapes at him across the table. “You went out with Crowley again? What’s that three times now?”

“Four,” Dean says, popping another chocolate brownie into his mouth and making a noise that he’ll admit is too close to orgasmic to make in public. God, he seriously needs to find out who does all the baking in this place and marry them straight away.

“I didn’t even think you liked him,” Charlie says, grabbing the last remaining brownie from the plate before Dean can snatch it up.

“I don’t know if I do like him,” Dean says, honestly. “But he’s not dull. And he hasn’t tried to get all hot and heavy.”

“Yet,” Charlie says.

“Yet,” Dean adds, in acknowledgement. “It’s just cool to have someone to hang out with that doesn’t treat me like some poor defenseless chick. No offence.”

Charlie kicks him, hard, under the table. “Offence taken, dickhead. What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dean discreetly rubs at his shin. Charlie has a vicious streak and a good aim. “Sorry, jeez. I just mean, most alphas speak to me like I’m some kind of delicate flower, either that or just a dumb bitch they can talk into bending over. Crowley’s a sarcastic asshole, but he can take as good as he dishes out. He doesn’t expect me to be anything else but myself. He’s fun, in small doses.”

“In small doses. So, you don’t really think he’s the one.”

“Probably not,” Dean admits. “But, I've been up front about it and he’s still hanging around so…” Dean shrugs. To be honest, he doesn’t have a clue what’s going on between him and Crowley. But he can’t see that they’re doing any harm.

They’ve met three times at the Den, and then the last time, Crowley took him for a drive in his flashy jaguar (which is a gorgeous vehicle, but not a patch on Dean’s baby) and then on to a diner which did amazing burgers. It was pretty much Dean’s idea of a perfect date. If not the perfect person to be on a date with.

Crowley’s not as much as tried to kiss Dean yet. He’s not even tried to hold Dean’s hand. Dean’s not complaining, but he is a little puzzled. He can’t figure out what Crowley’s angle is. If he’s really interested in Dean, and just taking things slow, or if he’s playing some kind of game.

“I don’t think you should be wasting your time hanging out with some slimy dickbag you know isn’t the right fit for you,” Charlie says. “You need to find something real. An alpha you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

Coming from anyone else, the unsolicited advice would rub Dean the wrong way. But he knows Charlie is just worried about him. He’s been at the Den for over three months now and hasn’t had one date that didn't fail miserably. Apart from whatever him and Crowley have going on. Garth hasn’t been subtle about the fact he’s concerned. Dean thinks Garth’s just taking all the failed matches personally. Like Dean is deliberately trying to fuck up all his efforts.

“Charlie, I don’t even know if I want to spend the rest of my life with one alpha. Maybe that’s the problem.”

“But, Dean, you have to,” Charlie says. “Heat sickness is serious.”

“So, what, I should just settle for some alpha that I don’t hate, just in case I come down with an illness?”

“An illness that might kill you. Slowly and painfully. And no… you shouldn’t settle. But you shouldn’t be wasting your time with someone you know isn’t a possible mate either.”

Dean rubs his hand across his face. He knows all this. He just doesn’t know exactly what he’s supposed to do about it. He’s never been a relationship guy; this shit doesn’t come naturally to him. It’s not like he can just flip a switch and suddenly want to become the perfect submissive omega.

“Is there no one you’ve met that you’ve liked?” Charlie continues. “Not a single alpha that you’ve scented and felt your knees go weak?”

There is. But Dean’s not planning on sharing that with Charlie. There are three alphas who very much make his knees go weak. But they’re also very much involved with each other. Dean might be an idiot, but he’s not stupid. He knows better than to chase after anyone who’s in a relationship. Even though he’d be lying if he said that the three of them, Benny, Cain, and Cas, are all very much at the forefront of his mind a lot of the time. Especially when he’s spending quality time alone.

“There is,” Charlie exclaims, when Dean is too slow to reply, caught up pleasantly in his wandering thoughts. “Who is it?”

“No one,” Dean insists.

Charlie kicks him again, right on the same spot. Dean hisses. “Liar,” she says. “Tell me or I’ll tell Ellen you’re having second thoughts about Marvin and desperately want a second date.”

Dean blanches. That’s one alpha he never wants to see again. Creepy weirdo. And to make matters worse, mind-numbingly boring too.

“That’s low, Red,” Dean grumbles. “There’s no one, okay. No one available.”

Charlie frowns. “What do you mean, no one available? It's not Gilda is it?”

Charlie and Gilda are now serious. And obviously happy even though Dean knows that Charlie is missing Dorothy terribly.

“No,” Dean laughs. “No, it’s definitely not Gilda. It’s… he works here, okay?” Well, Benny does, and Cain apparently does, and Dean is not admitting that there is more than one alpha in his shady fantasies so it’s as close to the truth as he’s getting.

“Hm, interesting.”

“No, it’s not interesting,” Dean says. “It sucks. Let’s just drop the subject.”

“Maybe you should talk to them anyway. You know, usually mated alphas don’t smell great to us omegas.”

“Charlie,” Dean hisses, spotting Benny walking towards them from the door of the dining room. “I’m not messing up someone’s relationship just because my nose is defective. Just drop it, okay?”

“Dean,” Charlie starts to object just as Benny drags a chair over from a nearby table, and sits down beside them.

“Excuse me for interrupting, but I wanted a quick word, Dean, hope you don’t mind.” Benny places his hand on Dean’s forearm, his touch warm on Dean’s bare arm but still making goosebumps pop across his skin. Dean deliberately doesn’t look at Charlie as he feels himself blush.

Benny at least doesn’t seem to notice the effect he has on Dean. “I ain’t normally one to interfere, but, well, I heard you’ve been seeing a fair bit of Crowley, and I just wanted to say, well, be careful, cher. Crowley is… he’s tricky. I don’t trust him. He’s a slippery son of a bitch.”

“Well, he can’t be that bad if he passed all the security checks, can he?” Dean points out. “That’s the point of doing all this matchmaking bullcrap, isn’t it? So, us poor ole defenseless omegas aren’t whisked off by some cunning alpha?” Dean moves his leg before Charlie can kick him again.

Benny shifts uncomfortably and moves his hand from Dean’s arm. “Just because he’s never been caught doesn’t mean he ain’t up to no good. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I can look after myself,” Dean returns sharply.

“And I’m not saying you can’t, brother.” Benny holds his hands up in an effort to diffuse Dean’s defensive reaction. Unfortunately for him, that only pisses off Dean more. If there’s one thing he hates it’s feeling patronized.

“No? What are you saying then?”

“I’m saying you deserve better than some smooth-talkin’ bastard who doesn’t really care about you.”

Dean’s too busy angling for an argument now to listen to what Benny is saying, “Doesn’t care about me? Of course not. Why would anyone give a damn about a second-rate omega like me, huh?” Dean jumps up, his chair legs scraping across the floor.

“That’s not what I meant,” Benny stands up too. “I’m screwing this up, Lord, Cain told me to leave it be.”

“And what the fuck does this have to do with Cain?” Dean snaps. “Y’all like to gossip about the deficient omega that not even a limey douchebag like Crowley could really want?”

“No! Hell, no. Dean, wait...” This time when Benny tries to lay his hand on Dean’s arm, Dean slaps it away, ignoring the flash of hurt in the alpha’s eyes.

“I don’t need some smug mated alpha trying to tell me what to do, so keep your nose out of my damn business,” he snarls, walking away, and ignoring Benny and Charlie calling out after him.

The worst thing is, he’s sure Benny is right. Crowley is a slippery son of a bitch, and Dean doesn’t exactly trust him, but fuck it… he’s fun to hang out with. And, Dean figures, that’s pretty much as good as a crappy omega like him can hope for.

  
  
  


**CHAPTER FIVE**

Dean shouldn’t be here. He should be tucked up safe and sound in his room at the Den like the rest of the inmates. But honestly, he’s growing more and more frustrated with being treated like some naughty kid who has to keep to a schedule. Especially since he and Benny argued.

Sooner or later, Dean knows he’s going to snap. Or snap worse than he already has. Charlie wasn’t slow in telling him he was a dick to Benny so they’re barely talking at the minute. And Ash has gone and suddenly gotten himself engaged to a gorgeous alpha so he’s not around much either.

What's worse is that the effects of his suppressants are finally wearing off and he’s been feeling like crap. He’s had headaches, chills and cramping pains in his stomach and back, like his insides are trying to rearrange themselves. He could go ask Missouri for pain meds but he’s not remotely in the mood for yet another of her lectures.

He’s not going into heat yet, and hopefully won’t for another couple weeks at least, but for the first time since he hit puberty, he has started to slick up when he’s jerking off. And he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t freaking out about that.

Tonight was just too much. There was yet another party. Ash’s engagement party. And once again Dean felt like the odd man out. Sitting at the edge of the room, watching everyone else join in the celebrations. Cas was there. With Cain. And Benny. Dean stayed well away from them, not wanting to witness whatever cozy relationship bliss they have going on. And fucking terrified that one sniff of the three of them together would have Dean slicking up in his underwear like a desperate teenager.

He’d skipped out as soon as he saw the chance. Managed to slip out of the grounds with surprising ease. Benny wasn’t lying when he said the security was focused on keeping people out and not in.

It took him a while to make it to the club. He had an address and vague directions from Crowley but he wasn’t that sure what he was looking for, so it was past midnight by the time he eventually stepped through the door.

Crowley’s club isn’t what Dean expected. Given Crowley’s British accent and love of expensive tailoring, top-shelf whisky and showing off, he’d pictured Crowley owning some sort of old-fashioned gentleman’s club where the select and obscenely rich clientele smoked cigars and talked in hushed whispers about stock prices.

He probably should have considered the name of the place before he leapt to that conclusion.

Crowley’s Hellfire Club does have a select clientele, and Dean imagines they’re all pretty fucking loaded, but they sure as hell aren’t talking about stock prices now.

Dean sticks by Crowley’s side as they walk through the club. Not out of any omega instinct to stick by his alpha but out of sheer self-preservation. Dean feels very much out of place in his casual outfit of loose-fitting jeans and a tee-shirt and though Crowley doesn’t seem fazed, every other eye in the club seems to be laser-focused on him. Judging him. The atmosphere is wired. The smell is overpowering.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Crowley asks. Dean would say his tone is teasing but that’s too kind for the smug pull at the corner of his lips. “Is this not your scene? I thought you’d visited a club or two in your time.”

“Not this kind of club,” Dean says, his eyebrows at his hairline. The only club he’s been in before was a dive bar compared to this. And the worst Dean had done there was jerk off another guy in the men’s room. Here, there’s a girl down on her knees sucking a guy off in the middle of the dance floor and no one seems to care. Least of all Crowley.

“Come now, Dean,” Crowley says, stopping once they reach the bar. “I thought you were broad minded.”

“I am,” Dean insists. “But I wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t imagine that owners of sex clubs were approved by Ellen to date her omegas.”

“Two manhattans.” Crowley instructs the bartender, not bothering to ask Dean what he wants. “I don’t just own sex clubs. And Ellen certainly isn’t aware of the more illicit side of my business ventures. Just like Ellen is unaware of your presence here tonight.”

Dean squirms. He shouldn’t be here.

“But that’s why we get on so well, Dean. We’re cut from the same cloth, you and I. We don’t want dull routine. We want to grab life by the balls. We want excitement, thrills.”

“Maybe,” Dean says. “But there’s excitement and then there’s getting booted out of the Den for breaking all the rules.”

Crowley presses a drink into his hand. “Relax, darling. Ellen isn’t going to kick you out of that ridiculous place. Although why you care is beyond me. We both know you aren’t cut out to be one of those simpering omega idiots who isn’t happy unless they have a mate and a litter of squalling pups. Life is for living. For having some bloody fun while we’re here.”

“And this is your idea of fun?” Dean looks around at the gathering of people. Half-naked bodies pressed together, the smell of hard liquor, sweat and sex hanging heavy in the air. Dean can’t even tell what or who he’s smelling. The club might be full of normals or mixed with alphas and omegas. All Dean can scent is sex. And lust. Pure unadulterated desire.

“Isn’t it yours?” Crowley asks. “Sex with no ties. No pressure. No commitment.”

Dean shrugs. It’s certainly been his past experiences. But it’s not what he’s supposed to be looking for now. He’d been hoping for more, for sex that meant something. Maybe he is just deluded. Brainwashed by Ellen and Garth and all the happy smiley omegas back at the Den.

“I can take you back, if you like,” Crowley says. “If you’re happier with rules and curfews, and being treated like a snot-nosed kid.”

Dean sips at the cocktail in his hand. It’s not half bad.

“But don’t you get sick of it?” Crowley continues. “The never-ending rules and endless parade of tedious alphas looking to bend you over and breed you up. Don't you ask yourself if this is it? This is all your life is? Don’t you ever just want to bugger off and go howl at the moon?”

“And this…” Dean gestures around them. “This is you howling at the moon?”

Crowley turns and surveys the room like he’s the king of his own private domain. Not just like he owns the club, but like he owns everything and everyone in it. “This is where I feel most alive. This is who I am.”

“So why come to the Den then?” Dean asks. “Why bother?”

“Because I was bored. Because I started to think maybe there was an omega out there who might change my mind. And then I saw your photo and I just had to meet you. And then I met you and I knew.”

“That I was the omega for you?”

“No, Dean,” Crowley laughs. “I knew that you were like me. That you’re not interested in doing what society expects even if you’re trying to convince yourself you are. There’s not an alpha out there for you, Dean. Because you don't really want one.”

Crowley knocks back the rest of his drink and slams the empty glass on the bar top. “Have a think about it, Dean. Have a drink. Hell, have the bottle. If you want to go back to Ellen’s I’ll have someone take you. If you want some fun, come find me.”

With that he strolls away, hands in his pockets and chest puffed out like a peacock.

Dean takes another sip of his drink. And thinks about what Crowley said. Dean doesn’t see himself as being remotely similar to Crowley. He’s not as cynical, not as sure of himself. And he’s definitely not as big an egotistical know-it-all.

What Crowley said about Dean not wanting an alpha isn’t true either. Dean wouldn’t have gone to the Den, no matter the consequences, if, deep down, he hadn’t wanted to find someone to settle down with. A mate. Now he’s been there a few months, he’s not so sure that love is in the cards for him, but that’s because he can't find anyone who wants him, not because he doesn’t want to. He thinks. 

One thing Dean is sure about, is that he doesn’t want to be here. Not that he’s against having a good time or against other people having a good time, but even he knows that being here in a club like this on his own isn’t a wise idea.

Dean finishes off his drink and tries to spot Crowley amongst the revelers on the dance floor. The alpha should be easy to pick out seeing as how he was fully dressed when Dean saw him last. Most of the bodies writhing to the music are half dressed at best. There are people fucking, with abandon, while others watch on. There’s a guy wearing a leather harness being led around by a leash attached to his dick. A woman bent over a table being spanked ruthlessly with a wooden paddle.

Dean would be lying if he said some of the displays weren’t a turn on. But that still doesn’t mean he’s going to hang around.

This isn’t what he wants. Not now. Even if his hedonistic dick disagrees.

He walks warily around the edges of the club, ignoring interested glances and the odd hand brushing over his chest, his abs, his ass.

He doesn’t make it as far as finding Crowley.

“Hmmm, hello, little O.”

Dean stills. The voice, feminine but with a tone that is unmistakable alpha, is right in his ear. A nose brushing against his skin, inhaling the sweat at the back of his neck. A hand slapping against his ass. Dean’s skin crawls with the wrongness of it.

“What’s a pretty bitch like you doing all alone in a place like this?”

“Leaving,” Dean retorts, sharp as a knife, spinning around to face the alpha. She’s undeniably beautiful. Tall, taller than Dean, waves of fire-red hair, scarlet lips, and dangerous eyes. “And I ain’t no bitch, lady so back the fuck off.”

“Mm, feisty, I like it,” the woman says, crowding in against Dean. Dean backs away until the wall is behind him and he can’t get any further.

“Listen lady,” Dean starts to say.

“Abaddon,” the alpha says, cutting him off. “My name is Abaddon. And you are?”

There’s no way Dean’s sticking around for introductions. He tries to side-step out of her way. “I told you, I’m leaving.”

Abaddon cages him against the wall, her hands on either side of his head. If it was a guy pulling this shit, Dean wouldn’t hesitate to knee them in the balls and beat a hasty retreat. But it goes against his instincts to hit a woman. Even an alpha. Even an alpha that stinks of trouble like this one.

“I don’t think so. You came here looking for a knot, didn’t you pretty boy? That’s the only reason omegas come slutting it up at Crowley’s.”

Dean cringes as she runs a blood-red nail down the ridge of his cheek bone. “Look, I don’t want to hurt you, but…”

Abaddon throws her head back and laughs. “Oh darling, don’t worry. You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.” Then her hand is around his neck, her thumb digging in under his chin, squeezing against his windpipe and her leg pushing between Dean’s thighs.

Dean freezes. A rabbit caught by a fox.

“Mm, a bitch as beautiful as you gives a girl naughty ideas,” Abaddon purrs, licking a stripe up the side of his face. “I’ve been looking for a new plaything. You ever taken a knot before, baby? I bet you’ve not taken one like mine. It’ll break you open forever.”

“Get the fuck off me,” Dean somehow manages to choke out.

Miraculously, Abaddon releases him, and retreats a step. Dean gulps down great lungfuls of air now that he can breathe again. He isn’t expecting her to backhand him across the face, hard enough to send him stumbling to his knees. He’s still reeling when she’s back on him, her fingers twisting in his hair, yanking his head back and forcing him to look up at her.

“You know what we haven’t had in here for a while… an omega rally.”

Dean looks up at her blankly. He has no idea what she’s talking about.

“You don’t know what that is?” She laughs. “Oh baby, you’re so innocent; it’s adorable. They used to have omega rallies all the time back in the good old days when omegas knew their places. There was no nonsense about omegas picking their mates then. We just strapped an O down and let every alpha fuck them. Either they ended up mated, dead or claimed by a pack.”

Dean thinks he might throw up.

“It was a kindness really,” Abaddon continues. “Omegas are only born to serve one purpose. There was no heat sickness back then because no omega made it to your age without being bred like the bitch they were designed to be.”

“Or killed,” Dean snarls. “Sure, sounds like a kindness to me, you psycho bitch.”

Abaddon lets go of his hair just long enough to slap him across the face again, with so much force his teeth clack together. “Watch your mouth, sweetie. I’m not the bitch here.”

Dean’s ears are ringing, the taste of blood on his tongue.

Abaddon yanks at his hair, forcing his head down to the side. “I could bite you right now. Sink my teeth into your neck. Mark you up so no one else would want to touch you.”

Dean doesn’t think so. He’s done being a passive participant. Instead of trying to pull away from the alpha, he charges forward, taking her by surprise and unbalancing her. He’s on his feet before she can do anything about it, and this time he’s determined not to let her get close enough to touch him again. But he also doesn’t want to turn his back on her. 

It’s a standoff. The pair of them glaring at each other. Both waiting for the other to make a move.

Dean’s still confident he can get out of this unscathed. He’s scrappy, knows how to fight dirty if he has to. And he’s sensible enough to know when retreat is the safest option. He’s pretty sure he can outrun this she-devil in her four-inch heels. He just has to get past her first.

In retrospect, if he’d acted quicker instead of stopping to think, he probably would have been okay. But he wastes precious seconds figuring out where the hell the closest exit is, and by the time he decides which way to make a run for it two burly guys have appeared, flanking Abaddon.

At this point Dean can’t even tell if they’re alphas or normals; his senses are in overdrive, overwhelmed, all he can smell is danger. Whoever, whatever, they are, they’re big guys. Taller than Dean and Abaddon both, with thick necks and muscles bulging out from their shirt sleeves.

Dean can throw a punch, but he knows his chances of making it out of this unscathed now are slim to say the least.

Abaddon smirks, her stance relaxing. “Looks like I’m not the only one who wants to play. My boys are going to have fun with you, darling. After I’ve had first go, of course.”

“Fuck you,” Dean growls.

“Oh no, sweetie.” Abaddon licks her lips, her gaze straying down Dean’s body. “That’s not on the cards.”

Dean swallows a nervous lump in his throat, flexes his hands and shifts on his feet. The two guys track his movements. “You seriously think you’re gonna get away with this? That no one here’s gonna notice this kind of commotion? That Crowley won’t see what’s going on?”

Abaddon laughs at that. “Oh lover, why do you think Crowley invited you here? You think you’re the first omega he’s tempted away from a Den? Darling, he’s a pro at seducing the innocent. Tell me… are you a virgin? He loves virgins. Loves watching them being corrupted. Ruined.”

Dean’s heart is hammering under his ribs. Sweat running between his shoulder blades and soaking through his tee-shirt.

“No one here is dashing to your rescue. You’re the entertainment, sweetie. They’ll be baying for your blood by the end of the night.”

“Is that so?”

Every single one of them looks towards the owner of the voice that just spoke. Dean’s knees almost buckle from sheer relief which does make him feel, embarrassingly, like a vapid heroine in bodice ripper.

“Cain?” Abaddon says, disbelief in her tone.

“Abaddon.” Cain’s voice is devoid of emotion and that’s way more terrifying than any of Abaddon’s spiteful threats. “Let him go.”

“Oh no, I don’t think so.” Abaddon says. And Dean gives her kudos for very nearly succeeding in hiding the hint of apprehension that creeps into her words. “I saw this pretty little thing first. Go find a playmate of your own.”

If the tension in the air was thick before, it’s stifling now. Dean could almost choke on the stench of alpha fury.

“Dean is no one’s plaything,” Cain says. “And he’s under our protection. I advise you to stand back and let him pass.”

That’s when Dean sees Benny and Cas step up behind Cain. Even in the darkened lighting, Dean can see how pissed they look. They may be here, like some minor miracle, to rescue him, but Dean suspects they’re not happy about it.

“Oh, I see how it is,” Abaddon laughs. “You want him for your little pack, don’t you? You should be more careful with your pets, Cain. You know omegas are fair game out here in Hellfire.”

“I’m no one's pet, bitch,” Dean snaps, fed up with being discussed like he’s not capable of speaking for himself.

He doesn’t expect Abaddon to strike out, or for her to do it with such a breathtaking turn of speed. Her hand catches him across the mouth, his head snaps to the side, and he stumbles into the wall. He bounces back quickly, he thinks, fists raised, ready to throw punches, but it’s practically all over by then.

Abaddon's two henchmen are on the floor, one flat on his back, the other on his knees, hands clasped to his face trying to staunch the blood streaming from his nose. Benny and Cas are standing over them, without a scratch on them. They aren’t even breathing hard. Dean isn’t surprised by Benny, but he hadn’t guessed that Cas was such a badass. There’s obviously more hiding under his ill-fitting suit than Dean had imagined. And this seriously isn’t the time to be thinking about that.

Cain and Abaddon are nose to nose. “We’re leaving.” Cain tells her. “Come anywhere near Dean Winchester again and I will kill you. And you can pass the same message along to your friend Crowley.”

“You’re welcome to the pathetic bitch,” Abaddon sneers, backing down now that she’s outnumbered and out maneuvered.

Cain growls, but Benny’s hand is on his bicep, holding him back.

“And we will ensure that you and Crowley are both blacklisted at Fairdale,” Cas adds, stepping over the guy on the floor to join Benny by Cain’s side. “And at every other Den in the state. Assault of an omega is a serious offence. You’re lucky we’re not calling in the police right now.”

Dean stiffens. The last thing he wants is the cops turning up and making even more of a scene. This whole thing is humiliating enough.

“Come on, brother,” Benny says, to Dean. “Time to get out of here I think.”

In other circumstances Dean would chafe against anyone telling him what to do, but even he knows when he’s had a lucky escape. Head ducked, he allows Benny to lead him out of the club, his hand low on Dean’s back. Cas and Cain following close behind them.

The short journey back to the Den in Cas’ goddamn monstrosity of a car is awkward to say the very least. If Dean’s dad had ever cared enough about where Dean was to drag him home when he was teenager, he imagines this is exactly what it would have felt like.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas asks from the driver’s seat.

“I’m fine,” Dean says, then adds, somewhat stilted. “Thank you.” He’s waiting for the lecture. It comes from Benny beside him on the back seat.

“That was a godamn dumb move, Dean. Do you even know the trouble you could have gotten yourself in. Thank god Charlie knew where you’d disappeared to.”

“I’m a grown ass man,” Dean bites back. “I can take care of myself.”

“Not when you’re outnumbered in a place like that,” Benny points out. He’s not wrong, but Dean’s ego is too bruised to cede the point.

“I was doing just fine before you showed up.”

Cain huffs out a breath of disbelief. “That woman would have killed you without care. Going to Crowley’s club was a reckless move. I thought you had more sense.”

“Yeah?” Dean says. “And I thought Fairdale wasn’t a goddamn prison but you still all came out here to drag me back.”

“And isn’t it a good job we did?” Cain shoots back immediately.

Cas tries to play peacemaker. “Charlie was worried about you, Dean. She sought Benny out to confess that she suspected you were with Crowley and possibly in danger. I, for one, am very glad we found you when we did.”

Dean, truthfully, is pretty damn glad too, but he’s more embarrassed than anything right now.

He scoots down even further in his seat, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. And then he does what he always does when he feels backed into a corner: he goes on the offensive and let’s his mouth run away from him. “Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know Crowley was a dodgy motherfucker? The Den set me up with him in the first place. And it’s what I’m supposed to be doing isn’t it? Hunting out a suitable alpha that’s willing to fuck me into place. I was just doing what y’all wanted.”

“That is not what we want at all,” Cain snarls. Cas and Benny both fall unnaturally silent, and the smell in the car turns sour enough that Dean has to crack open a window. Even he has enough sense to shut the hell up and not exacerbate the situation after that. He’s pissed off everyone enough for one night.

Ellen is waiting for them on the front steps when they arrive back at Fairdale, her expression thunderous. The ear-bashing he gets from her is less than fun, but it’s still favorable to the oppressive stench in the car.

Despite the lateness of the hour and the impression he got from Ellen that he should head to bed and not even contemplate absconding again, Dean doesn’t go straight to his room. Instead he pays a visit to the library. This time he ignores his usual Stephen King and Vonnegut novels, settling down in his favorite chair instead with a dry looking tome that has the dull title, Omega Oppression, A Comprehensive History.

Omega rallies, Dean discovers, were an actual thing. As recently as forty years ago they were still happening in some backwater areas. Omegas locked down on breeding benches, left out in public squares to be fucked by any alpha passing by. In theory it was only supposed to happen if an omega reached maturity and fell prey to heat sickness. The theory being that a compatible alpha would happen along and mate them before they succumbed to the fever and died.

There were many cases, however, where omegas in heat had ended up locked down and used as entertainment or even a source of income for towns that gladly took advantage of the draw a breeding omega could bring.

The more Dean reads, the sicker he feels. He should know all this already, and sure he’s heard horror stories but he thought they were just that… stories. He‘d had no idea how widespread the maltreatment of omegas had been before the advancement of medicine had given them the choice of using blockers and suppressants. The need for an Omega Welfare Service makes far more sense now. Even if, in Dean’s experience, they are a bunch of assholes.

Though he’s almost asleep in his chair, Dean keeps on reading. About his history and biology. About mates, and packs. All the information he should already possess. His lack of knowledge is no one's fault but his own. He could blame his mom for taking off, abandoning him and Sammy, leaving them without the soft touch of a maternal figure. He could blame his dad for completing ignoring Dean’s designation. For forcing Dean to bring himself up. For making him feel nothing but shame and fear at being an omega. For a shit load of things actually. He could blame his doctor for shoving pills at him without explaining the full impact they would have. He could blame his teachers for allowing him to skip out on sex-ed and healthcare classes. For failing to see that the scruffy kid with the attitude problem needed help, not detentions.

He could blame a lot of people. But at the end of the day, as Dean is so keen on telling everyone, he’s a grown man, capable of taking care of himself. The only person to blame for his ignorance is himself.

  
  
  


**CHAPTER SIX**

Dean skips breakfast. In a place like Fairdale, gossip spreads quicker than wildfire and he’s sure his car crash of an outing last night is already common knowledge. He’ll have to show his face sooner or later but later suits him just fine.

He makes do instead with making instant coffee in his little kitchenette, and eating an apple rather than the pile of waffles or pancakes he usually wolfs down.

After the mistake he made trusting Crowley, Dean spends the morning thinking long and hard about his options. Ellen isn’t going to chuck him out of the Den, she made that perfectly clear. She wants him to stay. Dean just isn’t so sure that sticking around will do him any good. He doesn’t fit in. Ellen and Garth haven’t introduced him to a single alpha that he could ever see himself settling for. None that have appealed to him in the way they’re supposed to. The only alphas whose scents have been attractive to Dean are unavailable.

And after last night, Dean doesn’t think he’ll be able to look any of the three of them in the eye ever again.

By lunchtime Dean has changed his mind at least half a dozen times about what he should do. He’s packed his bag and unpacked it. Now his hold-all is lying on his bed with approximately half of his belongings in it. He can’t remember whether he’s packing or unpacking so he’s settled for sitting on the floor with his back against his bed and feeling miserable.

When the knock on his door comes, Dean despondently shouts for whoever it is to go away. When it becomes more insistent, he gives up and yells at them just to come the hell in already. He figures it’s Charlie, coming to kick his ass for being so fucking stupid. Or maybe Ellen coming to yell at him some more.

It’s neither.

It takes a minute for Garth to spot Dean where he’s sitting moping on the floor. His eyes skim over Dean’s half-packed bag before they land on him. “Hey, Dean I thought I’d check in on you. We missed you at breakfast. And lunch.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t real hungry,” Dean replies, despondent.

“Are you… going somewhere?” Garth nods towards Dean’s hold-all splayed open on the bed.

“I ain’t exactly decided yet,” Dean admits. “Was thinking about it.”

“You’re giving up on us, Dean? Already? Or are you giving up on yourself?”

“Wow,” Dean deadpans. “That’s deep, Garth. They teach pop psychology at puppet school?”

Garth pouts. “There’s no need to be mean, Dean.”

Dean sighs. “I’m sorry.” He is. Taking potshots at Garth is cheap. The guy’s as soft and cheesy as Velveeta, but his heart is mostly in the right place.

Garth brightens immediately, not one to hold a grudge. “So, I have three alphas lined up for you.”

“What?” Dean was expecting Garth to want to talk about what happened with Crowley. He definitely wasn’t expecting that.

“Three dates. Three alphas,” Garth reiterates, grinning widely. “All guys. All insanely good looking. You’re in for a treat.”

“I… don’t understand,” Dean says.

“What’s not to understand? Last night was… well, less said the better, but you gotta get back on the horse, cowboy. First date is at 14 hundred hours in the conservatory so you have about thirty minutes to get ready. And I’m not being funny, Dean, but I’d take a shower if I were you, you’re smelling a little ripe today even to my normal nose.”

Dean can’t argue that point. He’s skipped showering in lieu of feeling sorry for himself and even he thinks he smells gross.

“Garth,” Dean starts to argue. “I don’t know…”

But Garth is already on his way out the door. “Two o’clock Dean, don’t be late and don’t forget your smile. No one likes a sour puss.”

Garth is not to be underestimated. He may act like an affable goofball but he’s as tricky and manipulative as they come. Only he does it all with a grin on his face.

Dean wastes five more minutes wallowing in self-pity before he finally gets up off the floor. He does feel better after showering, and cleaning his teeth, and he’s definitely less likely to knock anyone out with his pungent smell. With his clothes scattered across the room, from the wardrobe to his bag and across the bed, Dean doesn’t bother searching for anything smart to wear. He grabs his comfortable jeans, the ones he’s worn so often they’re ripped across the knees and worn thin at his thighs, a tee-shirt with faded writing across the front and his cleanest and softest flannel shirt. Socks and boots and he’s done. And looking and feeling more like himself than he has before any other meet and greet and he’s done. And likely the opposite picture of what any alpha is looking for in an omega.

Dean doesn’t care. Not today. He’s not even sure why he’s going on this stupid date, other than the fact Garth didn’t give him the chance to say no.

He’s ready with five minutes to spare, and figures he may as well head down to the conservatory. He almost trips over Charlie when he opens the door.

“Jesus, where did you spring from,” Dean says.

“I… ah… I might have been hanging around waiting for you,” Charlie admits, giving him a bashful smile. “I wanted to make sure you weren’t mad at me after last night.”

“What? No,” Dean says. If she hadn’t sent Benny chasing after him God only knows what kind of mess he would have ended up in. He’d definitely have more than a bruised face to contend with. “

“Just, you didn’t show up for breakfast, and Garth said you were fine, but… your face, Dean, are you okay?”

She looks about two seconds away from tears, and Dean can scent how upset she is. Dean pulls her into a hug, feeling like an asshole. “Charlie, I’m fine. I swear. I was an idiot last night. You saved my ass.”

“Yeah, you were,” Charlie sniffs against his chest. “And I totally did. You’re not mad?”

“I’m not mad,” Dean repeats. “You warned me about Crowley and you were right. He was a creep.”

Charlie leans away and reaches up to touch his face. “Did he do this?”

“No,” Dean snorts ruefully. “That wasn’t him. That happened after he abandoned me in the middle of his sex club.”

Charlie’s already big eyes go impossibly wide. “His sex club?”

Dean laughs. “It’s a long story. And I’d better not be late for this stupid thing in the conservatory. I think I’ve pissed off everyone enough for one day.”

Charlie gives him another hug before pushing him towards the stairwell. She doesn’t ask what thing in the conservatory which leads Dean to suspect she knows and that’s why she just happened to be hanging around outside Dean’s door in time to catch him.

Dean doesn’t bother trying to tame the rogue lock of his hair that always tries to fly away or smooth down his shirt. Whoever the alpha is will just have to take him the way he is. And if that’s not good enough, tough. Honestly, Dean isn’t in the mood for this so his only aim is to get the date over and done with as quickly as possible.

When he opens the door to the conservatory and finds Benny waiting for him, he figures he’s here to give Dean another lecture before the alpha appears.

“You here to yell at me some more?” Dean asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Cause I get it. I’m an idiot. I don’t need another lecture.”

“I ain’t here to lecture you,” Benny says, standing up.

“Well then, why are you here? This alpha I’m supposed to be meeting need a security escort? Is that for his safety or mine?” Dean’s joking but Benny crosses his arms across his chest and frowns. And boy, the way his shirt pulls tight over his shoulders combined with the dark look he shoots Dean is ridiculously hot. As if Dean didn’t have enough trouble not acting like a scent-addled moron every time Benny was nearby.

“You think they’d send you on a date with anyone dangerous?” Benny says.

Dean doesn’t want to point out that Ellen and Garth were the ones who set him up with Crowley in the first place but his expression must say it all.

“Crowley’s background check didn’t flag anything,” Benny says. “And I swear I checked it and double checked it myself. But I never trusted him, not for a second. Believe me, cher, sending you on a date with him was not my call.”

Dean lets that go. He’s not blaming anyone but himself for what happened. “What are you doing here, Benny? Cause I’m supposed to be meeting some alpha and…”

“It’s me,” Benny interrupts him, his lip twitching hopefully, although Dean can sense the waves of anxiety suddenly rolling off of him.

“What?” Dean is pretty damn slow today because he doesn’t understand.“I’m the alpha you’re meeting first.”

“Oh,” Dean says. “No, I still don’t understand.”

“Why don’t you sit down, cher, and let me explain?”

Dean does. He’s confused.

“I like you,” Benny explains, sitting down opposite him at the table. “Ever since I set eyes on you, when you drove up the driveway in that sweet ride of yours, I knew you were something real special. And when I caught a whiff of your scent for the first time after you stopped taking those damn blockers, Lord. I’ve never been attracted to an omega’s scent before, Dean, but yours near as hell knocked me on my ass.”

Dean lets out an incredulous bark of laughter.

Benny takes his hand across the table and Dean’s laughter dies in his throat. Benny’s hand is huge and warm and fits perfectly around Dean’s. His expression is soft, his words are not. “I wanted to kill Abaddon last night. And her two friends. And everyone else in that club that was daring to look at you.“

Dean stares back at Benny, speechless.

“You’ve no idea how gorgeous you are. The effect you have on everyone. Sweet Lord, Dean, you’re perfect.”

“Benny, I’m… I’m a fuck-up,” Dean says, screwing up his nose, confused. “No one wants me. I’m… too big and too dumb and…”

“Dean,” Benny squeezes his hand when Dean tries to pull it away. “Everyone who’s met you, wants you. Every damn one of them. You were the one that didn’t want a second date. Not them. Every alpha who met you would have sacrificed anything for that second chance with you. Even Chuck begged Ellen for another try, and you made that poor little dude cry.”

Dean exhales shakily. “You’re… _insane_ ,” he concludes.

Benny laughs, a full bellowing laugh that shakes his chest. “No, darlin’, you’re oblivious. It’s cute as hell.”

“But I’m… but they… ” Dean thinks back over all the dates he had, all the alphas he met. “But I didn’t fit with any of them. They didn’t… none of them smelled...” —like you, or Cain, or Cas, Dean stops himself from saying because he’s confused as hell but he’s not stupid enough to admit that— “...right.” He settles on.

“Just because they didn’t smell right to you, doesn’t mean you didn’t smell like heaven to them, Dean,” Benny explains. “Can I ask. What do I smell like?”

Dean feels his cheeks heat. “You, um, you smell… good,” he admits which is a huge understatement.

Benny’s grin spreads across his face, his eyes lighting up.

“But, you and Cain, and Cas?” Dean says. “You’re together?”

“Well, yeah,” Benny says, casual as though it’s not an issue.

“So, what is this?” Dean asks, looking down at their clasped hands.

“Whatever you want it to be,” Benny says, which isn’t exactly helpful. “Last night made one thing clear for us all; we want you. And we sure don’t want any other alpha thinking they can put their hands on you. You deserve much more, darlin’.”

They _all_ want him? Benny and Cain and Cas? That makes no sense. And then what Abaddon said last night comes back to him and he yanks his hand out of Benny’s hold, jumps up, and backs away from the table. “You want me to be your pet? Like a… a sex toy or something?”

“Jesus, no,” Benny says. “Of course not. It ain’t like that at all.”

“But you’re a pack, right? The three of you?”

“Well, yeah, I guess, you could call us that,” Benny says. “What we have is kind of unusual these days. But it works for us. We fit together, the three of us. But you, Dean, we don’t want you to be our pet. That’s insane, brother. You’re more than equal to all of us. You… you’d… oh fuck this is gonna sound as corny as hell.”

“Please don’t say I’d complete you, because I think I might barf,” Dean says dryly.

Benny has the good sense to blush. “Okay, I won’t say it. Don’t make it any less true though. We can feel it. We’ve been happy enough, the three of us, up until now. But as soon as we met you, we knew you were the last piece of our puzzle. You’re perfect, Dean. Everything we didn’t even know we were waiting for. And we think we can be everything you need. Everything you want. If you just give us a chance.”

Dean’s gobsmacked. This was never an option he’d considered. Not in his wildest dreams. Not even in his wildest spank-bank scenarios. Well, maybe in his _wildest_ spank-bank scenarios, but that’s just fantasy not whatever weird shit this is.

“I’m gonna let you think about all this, cher,” Benny says, standing up. “It’s a lot to take in if you weren’t expecting it.”

Dean nods silently and stands up too. He doesn’t know what to say. This is gonna take a bit of time to get his head around. 

Benny pats Dean’s shoulder lightly as he walks past. Dean can’t help but lean in to his touch, closing his eyes, breathing in deeply, and inhaling Benny’s scent. 

Benny stills beside him and Dean can almost feel the alpha’s heartbeat racing. “Can I kiss you, darlin?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Dean nods, and then almost to God swoons when Benny’s lips descend on his, kissing him soft and sweet and breathtakingly gentle. And not for long enough.

With a needy whimper, Dean kisses him back, his fingers clutching at Benny’s shirt to stop him from pulling away. Benny responds with far more heat this time. A possessiveness in his kiss that leaves Dean hot and flushed all over.

“Don’t tell Ellen I did that,” Benny says, when Dean eventually opens his eyes again. “She’ll have my balls.”

Dean blinks back at Benny, dazed, his fingers reaching up to trace his lips.

“Would be worth it though.” Benny winks at him before he leaves.

Well, shit.

“We can call this right now if you want,” Ellen says to Dean plainly as they’re walking to the library. “I don’t even know how these idiots talked me into this.”

“No, it’s fine,” Dean says.

“Three dates in one day. I must be mad. Do not rush into anything,” Ellen says, looking at Dean sternly as they come to a stop outside the door. “This ain’t a normal situation. And I ain’t saying I’m surprised because you boys are all pretty damn obvious but that doesn’t mean you have to jump into this blindly.”

Dean isn’t really listening to Ellen. It’s only been an hour since he spoke to Benny and he’s still trying to figure out how he’s feeling about all this. The lecture, disguised as motherly advice, that Ellen’s been giving him for the past ten minutes has been going in one ear and spilling out the next without settling for a second in Dean’s head.

“Are you listening to me, boy?” Ellen says, but she tuts and attempts to pat down Dean’s hair without waiting for an answer. “I don’t know why I waste my breath. It’s like trying to argue with Mother Nature. Behave in there, Dean Winchester,” she orders, waving her finger at him before leaving him to it.

Cas is waiting for him when Dean opens the door. He’s sitting on the comfiest sofa in the library, the one that sucks you in and doesn’t want to let you up again. Cas, obviously unaware of the carnivorous sofa, gets flustered when he struggles to stand up and the sofa refuses to let him go without a fight. Dean takes pity on him and sinks down beside him instead.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says, trying not to roll against him as the matchmaking sofa cushions attempt to squash them together.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas replies, a red flush crawling up his neck. “I’m sorry, but the sofa seems to be a little clingy.”

Dean’s still new to reading scents, and he can be a little nose-blind at times, but even he can smell the embarrassed panic that Cas is radiating. His own shyness immediately takes a backseat in response, and he relaxes, his shoulder brushing soothingly against Cas’. 

“Don’t worry about it. I’m pretty sure this thing is a man-eater. I’ve spent more than one afternoon stuck in these cushions with a book. Not that I’m complaining.”

“Do you enjoy reading?” Cas asks, and just as easy as that they’re talking like two old friends. Dean tells Cas about his favorite books and authors and the stories he’d forgotten that he loved. That somehow leads to talking about Sam, which in turn leads to Cas telling Dean all about his family, and his brother Gabriel, and soon they’re laughing together as they compare childhood pranking tales. 

It’s not awkward in the slightest. Even the fact that they’re practically glued together thanks to the worn sway of the sofa cushions isn’t awkward. In fact, it’s pretty nice. Cas smells just as enticing as Dean remembers, and is just as easy to talk to.

The time flies by so quickly he’s taken by surprise when Cas points at the antique grandfather clock in the corner of the room and remarks that they’ve been chatting for almost two hours.

“Jeez,” Dean says, “how did that even happen?”

“It’s been an enjoyable afternoon,” Cas says. “You are just as amazing as I suspected.”

Dean blushes. “Don’t say shit like that, Cas,” he complains. “I’m not amazing. I’m a dumbass who barely scraped through high school. I work boring jobs to make ends meet and drive my dad’s car. I’m nothing special”

“Dean Winchester,” Cas says, taking Dean’s chin between his finger and thumb and turning his head so they are practically nose to nose. “You have no idea how much it infuriates me when you talk about yourself like that. You are kind and loving and generous and…”

“You don’t even know me, Cas,” Dean says, unable to hold Cas’ gaze, his eyes straying down to the alphas lips instead which is probably a mistake because they are very distracting. “You don’t know that I’m any of those things.”

“I know you brought your brother up to be a fine young man who’s going to attend a prestigious college. He would not be doing that without your sacrifices. I know you are protective of your friends and….”

Dean leans forward, drawn to Cas like a magnet. His lips are just as soft as Dean imagined. Until they aren’t soft at all, they’re insistent. Dean finds himself pushed back into the sofa, Cas kissing him fiercely, his fingers sliding under Dean’s shirt, and pressing into the sensitive flesh he uncovers.

Dean isn’t any more restrained, carding his fingers through Cas’ hair and tugging the soft strands with enough force to make Cas groan into his mouth.

Neither of them notices they’re not alone until a loud and pointed cough breaks through their growing ardor.

“Gentlemen,” Ellen says, glaring at the pair of them with icy disapproval when they finally break apart. “I don’t believe these are first date sanctioned activities.”

Dean glances at Cas out of the corner of his eye. The alpha looks beautifully flustered. His tie twisted artfully against his rumpled shirt and his dark hair even more disheveled than normal. “Would you say this was our first date?” Dean grins at Ellen, even flashing her a cheeky wink. “I mean we’ve met before. I’d say this was more like a third date? Is kissing a third date sanctioned activity?”

“I wouldn’t call that little display kissing.” Ellen is trying to maintain her haughty composure but Dean can tell she’s not half as mad as she’s pretending to be.

“My apologies,” Cas says, straightening up and trying to untangle himself from Dean and the sofa. “It was all my fault.”

Ellen humphs and lifts an eyebrow at Dean’s shit-eating grin. “Given how pleased with himself Dean looks, I somehow doubt you are entirely to blame, Castiel.”

“Nah,” Dean says, giving Cas’ ass a helpful shove up from the sofa and then accepting a more polite hand from a red-faced Cas to haul him to his feet. “It wasn’t Cas’ fault. He was being a good little alpha and protecting me from the man-eating sofa cushions.”

Cas growls at the “little” part of Dean’s statement, but Ellen grabs hold of Dean’s arm and drags him away before he can retaliate in any way. 

“While the pair of you are sickeningly sweet,” she says, manhandling Dean towards the door. “Dean does still have one other alpha to meet.”

“Goodbye, Dean,” Cas calls after them. “I hope to see you soon.”

“Sweet Jesus,” Ellen says, firmly closing the door behind them before Dean has a chance to reply. “I thought I was going to have to go fetch the fire hose to break you two up.”

Deans straightens his tee-shirt and flannel which are rucked up around his waist. “We were only kissing, Ellen.”

“Your definition of kissing is not the same as mine. If I didn’t know Castiel was usually such a gentleman I’d be throwing him out right now.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad influence?” Dean asks with a smirk.

Ellen smacks the back of his head, not near hard enough to actually hurt. “I’m saying you’re driving these alphas demented. Now, your next not so mystery man is waiting for you in the small dining room. Do you need a breather before you go in?”

Dean inhales deeply, exhales, and stops for a second to take stock of how he’s feeling. Okay, he thinks. He’s actually feeling okay. Maybe even bordering on happy. Possibly even a little excited. Right, time to rein himself back in. Excited and happy aren't emotions that work out well for Dean. This little experiment is bound to come crashing down around him soon.

“Hey, Ellen,” he says. “Seriously, this is going to end in disaster, right? I mean, you know what they want. Me and them? That shit isn’t normal, is it?”

Ellen looks like she might want to shake him, but settles instead for rolling her eyes and putting her hands on her hips. “And who’s to say what’s normal? You? Me?”

“Well, society usually,” Dean retorts.

Ellen shakes her head. “Don’t smart mouth me, Dean Winchester.”

Dean is about to argue that for once he wasn’t trying to be a smart ass, but Ellen talks over him. “And when has “society” ever had all the answers anyway? Most people don’t have a clue about alphas and omegas, hell, most people can’t see anything past the end of their nose. Different strokes for different folks, Dean. The world would be a miserable place if we were all the same.”

“But, this pack thing, that’s not normal. Not nowadays.”

“Good god, boy, since when did you care so much about normal?” Ellen sighs deeply. “As long as no one is getting hurt, and all of you, and I mean, all of you, are happy, then what’s the problem?”

Dean doesn’t have a ready argument for that.

“Okay, then, if we’re quite finished with the angsting over imaginary problems, do you want to do this now?”

“Sure,” Dean says. He’s come this far. He’s not gonna chicken out now.

Cain is sitting waiting for him. The table is set for two, a candle in the center, crystal glasses, silver cutlery and cloches ready and waiting. It’s all very romantic. Not Dean's usual style at all.

Dean tugs self-consciously at his flannel shirt, feeling horribly underdressed. Cain is as perfectly put together as always. He’s not wearing a suit jacket but he has on a crisp white shirt, dark tie and a navy vest that skims his body perfectly. If it wasn’t for the way his greying hair fell in wild waves around his face, he might look severe. As it is, he’s intimidating in a way that Dean finds unspeakably hot.

He’s not sure what signals he’s sending out, what Cain is picking up from his scent, but the alpha’s eyes darken and he watches intently when Dean licks his lips.

“Dean,” he says, in that soft sexy growl of his. “I think you’d better sit down before I forget that we are here to talk.”

With a slight swagger to his walk, an extra sway of his hips, Dean crosses the room and sits down across from Cain. He’s relieved that Cain doesn’t stand up and pull out his chair for him. The alpha is obviously wise enough to know that Dean doesn’t want to be treated like an old-fashioned omega, or a chick. Although the only time Dean pulled a chair out for a girl, she almost laughed him out of the diner, so that comparison doesn’t really work out either.

Cain does pour Dean some wine, only half a glass, before he lifts the lids of two of the cloches. Worried that there’s something posh and foreign lurking underneath Dean grins at the burger and fries sitting on the plate. “My favorite, awesome.”

Cain smiles fondly at him. “I’m glad you approve. Tuck in, Dean. I’m sure you worked up an appetite with Benny and Cas.”

Dean blushes, and coughs awkwardly. Cain merely smiles enigmatically back at him. “Or are you going to tell me the pair of them managed to behave like gentlemen and keep their hands to themselves?”

Dean picks up a fry and pops it in his mouth without a word. The pink tips of his ears speak volumes anyway.

“That’s what I thought,” Cain says, his eyebrow quirked knowingly.

Dean thought that of the three alphas, Cain would be the hardest for him to talk to. Not because he isn’t interested in the alpha but because his words have a habit of drying up when Cain looks directly at him. One glance from Cain and Dean feels like a teenager with a crush on his teacher. And after last night, Dean feels even more like a dumb kid in front of the man. But as they polish off their burgers, Cain manages to put him at ease. And not by merely ignoring the events of the previous night. He doesn’t lecture, doesn’t scold, he talks to Dean as an equal, not in any way patronizing. He explains that he’s had dealings with Abaddon before and couldn’t stand the woman even before she tried to attack Dean.

“There are some alphas,” he says, “that horrifically abuse their power and influence, and she is amongst the very worst. If you had fallen into her clutches, I would have never forgiven myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dean says, looking down at his lap. “I’m not your responsibility. I went to that club of my own free will.”

“Yes, well,” Cain says, picking his serviettes off his lap and wiping his fingers on it. “Perhaps if Benny, Cas and I had acted on our feelings sooner, you wouldn’t have felt the need to go searching for what you thought you were lacking.”

Dean looks up at Cain through his eyelashes. “And what do you think I’m lacking?”

Throwing his serviette on his empty plate, Cain stands up. “You, Dean Winchester, are lacking nothing. You were searching for the love and attention you should have had since you were a child. Especially an omega child. What you don’t appreciate is that Benny, Cas and I have wanted nothing more than to bring you into our home and lavish you with love and affection ever since we first met you. I truly believe you were born to be part of a pack, Dean, part of _our_ pack. To be loved fiercely and wholly and to be worshipped and protected. And also, to be able to protect those you love.”

Dean, face hot and head spinning, finds himself staring up at Cain mutely.

Cain holds his gaze for a moment before breaking the intensity crackling in the air, the suggestion of a smile playing on his lips. “There is perhaps just one thing you are lacking.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks, voice rough.

“Dessert,” Cain announces dramatically. And produces, with a magician’s flourish, from under another cloche, the most delicious looking pie.

Dean stares, his mouth instantly watering.

“You do like pie, don’t you?” Cain says, for once looking slightly unsure of himself, probably thanks to Dean’s silent reaction. “It’s apple. I considered making a chocolate cake but pie is rather a specialty of mine.”

“You made this?” Dean gazes in wonder at the golden pastry flaking on top of the pie.

“Well, yes,” Cain says, cutting a generous slice and placing it in front of Dean. “That is my job, Dean. I’m the head chef here. I do all the baking for the Den, I presumed you knew.”

The spoonful of buttery pastry that melts in Dean’s mouth confirms that Cain is indeed the magical baker that Dean has been swearing himself to ever since his first taste of pie in the dining room.

Dean groans around his next mouthful of pie and the next. Cain stands and watches, his eyes turning dark and scent growing thick.

“Oh my god,” Dean moans around the next spoonful. “This is the seriously the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth.”

Dean never thought he would see Cain flustered but right then, as he licks a smear of apple filling from his lips, Cain’s cheeks turn pink. And then red. And then he sits down heavily, hands clasping the arms of his chair as he watches Dean consume every last morsel of pie.

Relishing in the fact that for once he feels like he has the upper hand, Dean teases, licking his spoon with far more tongue action than is ever necessary to use on a spoon. Cain stares, entranced, his eyes following Dean when he stands up and prowls towards him. He stops breathing altogether when Dean straddles his lap, wraps his arms around Cain’s neck and says. “Since the very first day I came here, I told everyone who would listen that I wanted to marry the person who made these pies. And I don’t think I’ve changed my mind.”

And then he kisses Cain until Cain finally unclenches and kisses him back. And then he tries desperately to hang on to any shred of self-respect he has and not come in his pants when Cain lifts him up and lays him back over the table, mouthing at his neck. Dean responds enthusiastically and loudly, dragging Cain down on top of him and wrapping his legs around the alpha’s hips. Whimpers and breathy moans fill the room as they rut and grind against each other, quickly working themselves up into a fervor. 

Only the fact that they are still fully clothed makes the scene less pornographic than it might otherwise have been when Ellen walks in. 

“Well,” Ellen says, looking at Dean lying flushed and breathless amongst the dirty plates on top of the table. “I thought you at least might have some self-restraint, Cain.”

Cain, to his credit, meets her unimpressed glare head on. “We were discussing dessert,” he tells her. “Dean seems to have a preference for pie.”

Cas and Benny who appear from just behind her, grin knowingly as Cain helps Dean down from the table onto the floor, brushing out the worst of the wrinkles from the back of Dean’s flannel as he steadies him on his feet.

“And that,” Ellen says, stepping in quickly to drag Dean away from Cain, “concludes the evening’s activities.”

“It does?” Dean says. He can’t say he’s not disappointed. “Maybe we should all sit down together and talk some more?”

Ellen narrows her eyes at Dean. “Boy, you think I was born yesterday? You’ve had enough chances to _talk_ today. I think some time for reflection is needed. Some solitary reflection.”

“Perhaps Dean is right,” Cas tries.

“We do need to talk,” Benny agrees.

They’re both smiling at Ellen in what they must think is their most charming way. Dean is definitely charmed, but even he can see the way they’re sniffing the air and practically basking in Dean’s scent.

“Oh no,” Ellen says, dragging Dean out of the room by the shirt sleeve. “What y’all need are cold showers and a good night’s sleep. This is a respectable Den not a pay by the hour motel. And if I find any of you sniffing around Dean’s room tonight, I’ll be pulling out my shotgun, is that clear?”

Ellen doesn’t wait for an answer, but a chorus of reluctantly amused “yes ma'ams” follows them down the hallway.

“Y’know I’m not some delicate virgin. You don’t have to defend my honor,” Dean grumbles as Ellen escorts him back to his room.

“And you know that this is not the way we do things here,” Ellen reminds him. “And boy, you’re so drunk on all those alpha pheromones right now, you can’t think straight.”

Ellen stops outside his room. “I’m not saying this is a bad idea. I’m saying sleep on it. See how you feel in the morning.”

Dean feels like a kid being sent to his room, but he knows that Ellen has his best interests at heart, so he doesn’t put up any more of a fight.

He does jerk off as soon as he’s alone though. And for the first time ever he even tries sliding a finger in his hole while he’s doing it. He’s never wanted to get fucked before. Never admitted to himself that he’s even curious about it. He’s always tried so hard to pretend he’s normal, like his dad always wanted, that he refused to even contemplate the idea of bending over for anyone. Even the thought of allowing an alpha near his ass used to fill him with a hot wash of shame. The suppressants and blockers helped, quashing every natural omega instinct that he had. Now though, now he has to admit that he’s aching to find out what it would feel like to be fucked by an alpha. By an alpha who wanted him enough to pursue him. By Cas, or Benny, or Cain. 

It feels weird at first to push a finger in his ass but it slides in so easily now that he’s slicking up that Dean soon shoves in another alongside, moaning softly when he discovers how good it makes him feel. It’s awkward fucking himself with one hand and jerking off with the other, and he can only imagine how obscene he looks with his knees bent up and feet spread wide, toes digging into the bed sheet as his body shudders and shakes with a fast-approaching orgasm. It’s the thought of his alphas seeing him like this, the thought that it might actually happen rather than just be a far-fetched fantasy, that makes Dean clamp down around the fingers in his ass and spill his load, fast and hard enough that he pretty much blacks-out.

  
  


**CHAPTER SEVEN**

Dean wakes up in the morning, not just tangled in his bed sheets but flat-out sticking to them. He feels gross and disgusting and mildly ashamed of himself. He had no idea that dried come and slick were such effective adhesives. He peels himself away from his bed, trying not to lose a layer of skin, and swears grumpily that he’s never going to make the mistake of falling asleep in his own mess ever again. 

By the time he’s showered and shaved, he’s feels slightly more human and slightly less grouchy. He’s not yet alert enough to examine the events from the previous day though. Not without coffee a hell of a lot stronger than the crappy instant stuff he has in his room.

He discovers, once he’s in the dining room, that he’s starving. He’s half way through a pile of waffles when Charlie throws herself into a seat opposite him.

“Okay, Winchester, spill.”

Dean’s cheeks are full of waffle so he simply grins back at Charlie like a smug chipmunk.

“I want details,” she says, undeterred. “I know you. And I know something’s going on. Garth set you up yesterday, did you meet someone?”

Dean chews slowly. Charlie glares. Then picks up a fork and stabs it in his direction.

“I swear if you don’t start talking, I’m gonna…”

“Okay, okay,” Dean says, holding his hands up in surrender. “Jeez, Red, let me finish my breakfast first before you pump me for information.”

Charlie huffs but lays down the fork.

Once Dean has polished off the last of his waffles, he explains about the dates with all three alphas, about the arrangement they all seem to want. Charlie’s expression slowly morphs from excitement to disapproval. Dean hadn’t expected that.

“Benny and Cain?” She asks, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms. 

Dean nods. “And Cas.” 

“Is that even ethical?” Charlie asks. “I mean, they work here. Isn’t that like a teacher/pupil kind of issue?”

Well, that’s a disturbing thought. Dean scrunches his nose up. “First of all, ew, no! Second, I’m twenty-two not a kid. And it’s not the same at all. They aren’t in any position of power over me. They aren’t pressuring me into anything. And I’m here voluntarily so if there’s an issue with ethics, I’m quite happy to leave now. Come one, Charlie, I thought you would be happy for me.”

Dean’s not upset. Not really. Well, maybe he’s a little upset. He knows this is all pretty out of the ordinary but he thought if anyone would be pleased that Dean had finally found a glimmer of hope it would be Charlie.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Charlie says. “I guess I’m just surprised. I mean… you barely even know these alphas or anything about them. And they’ve been living happily together for years. How are you going to fit into their relationship? How’s it even going to work? People don’t live in packs anymore. It’s just… it’s not the way things work. Like my mom always said, alphas and omegas are two halves of one whole. Soulmates. You and three alphas? That doesn’t add up.”

Dean tries to hide how deeply Charlie’s words cut, but he’s not sure he’s quick enough to disguise the hurt in his eyes.

“Well, we all know I’m a weird omega. Maybe I’m broken enough that it takes three alphas to fix up my soul.”

Charlie’s cheeks instantly turn pink. “That’s not what I meant.”

Dean’s not sure what else she could have meant.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” Charlie says. “Can you honestly imagine Zachariah and the suits down at Omegas Welfare Services being okay with this? Even if it was just Benny or Cain it would be bad enough with them working here, but them, you and Cas? Zachariah is going to pitch a fit.”

“Well, it’s a good job Zachariah doesn’t get a say in who I sleep with, ain’t it?”

“But he could make trouble for Ellen,” Charlie says, her voice pitched low. “Dean…”

“What do you want me to do, Charlie?” Dean hisses, the waffles now sitting heavily in his stomach. “You say you want me to be happy, but when I think I might actually have a shot at it, you tell me it’s wrong?”

Charlie bites at her lip, and looks away.

Dean stands up.

“Dean, wait,” Charlie says. “I’m sorry. I do want you to be happy. Of course I do. You’re the best friend I’ve had in here. I’ll support whatever you want to do. Just… be careful, okay.”

Dean gives her a smile before he walks away, but it’s tight, doesn’t reach his eyes. Not that kind of smile he usually reserves for her.

He heads outside straight away, hoping that the fresh air and gardens might help clear his head.

He knows shacking up with three alphas is a weird notion. People won’t understand. Alphas and omegas may be different but not that different. They settle down and they get married and they have kids.

Four guys in a relationship isn’t anywhere on the spectrum of normal, and no matter what Ellen says, normal is expected. Normal is safe.

Last night, Dean had been thinking with his dick, and his nose, maybe even with his heart, but not with his brain.

Imagine going home and telling Sam and his dad that he’s shacking up with three alphas. He knows deep down his dad is still secretly hoping he’ll settle down with a girl like a good normal son should. He’s spent all of Dean’s life trying to ignore the fact that his son is an omega; at least if Dean settled down with a female alpha his dad could pretend he was all man and not anyone’s bitch.

Dean feels nauseous when he thinks of how his dad would look at him if he became the omega pet of three alphas. He can’t even begin to imagine the disgust that would be in his eyes on top of the usual disappointment.

“Mr. Winchester, how nice to see you out here enjoying the morning air.”

Dean stiffens at the voice, and curses himself for being so lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice anyone creeping up behind him.

“I was paying one of my routine visits to the Den to ensure Ellen is looking after you all when I heard the news.”

Of course he heard. Nothing in this place stays secret. Dean shoves his hands in his pockets and turns to glare at Zachariah.

“I must say, I’m shocked that Ellen allowed this situation to arise,” Zachariah continues unfazed by Dean’s glower. “All those alphas that have paid money in good faith for a chance to meet an omega and you don’t end up with any of them. Hardly seems fair. Or decent.”

Dean grits his teeth and pushes down his immediate instinct which is to tell Adler to fuck off.

“I mean, really, Dean, one omega mating with three alphas. Under Ellen’s roof? That’s bound to cause a scandal I’m sure Ellen could do without.”

“Not that I think it’s any of your business,” Dean says, shoulder slumping, knowing that Zachariah is right. “But I haven’t decided anything yet.”

Zachariah’s eyes light up. “I see. So, there’s still a chance we could mate you off to a more suitable alpha. Obviously they’d have to be attracted to a less than conventionally pleasing omega, not something that’s easy to find. But there are still one or two more traditional alphas in my acquaintance that I might be able to convince to give you a try.”

If Dean wasn’t feeling so out of sorts this morning, so unsure in his own skin, he’d probably deck Zachariah right there. As it is, he’s too confused, too emotionally vulnerable, as Missouri would tell him, to argue.

An unsure shrug and an, “I guess,” is all he manages.

And that’s how he finds himself on yet another date just a few hours later.

This one isn’t even at the Den. And Ellen is more pissed than Dean has ever seen her.

“Goddamn Adler. Who the hell does he think he is, arranging this without running it by me? He knows it’s against all my rules.”

Dean stands awkwardly, playing with his tie, watching Ellen pace up and down the hallway.

“It’s just one date.” He tries to placate her. “And if it shuts him up then it’s no big deal.”

Ellen pins Dean with a glare. “You went on enough dates yesterday. I didn’t think you would want to meet any more alphas.”

Sweat is already gathering under Dean’s shirt collar. He hates wearing a monkey suit, but Zachariah had insisted Dean make an effort. Dean plays with his tie some more and avoids the question in Ellen’s voice. He doesn’t want to meet any more alphas. But he also doesn’t want Adler causing Ellen any trouble which he heavily implied he could. And would.

“Do you want to meet any more alphas, Dean?” Ellen asks him outright.

Dean huffs and shrugs his shoulders. “Don’t know what I want, Ellen.” It’s as close to the truth as he’ll admit. What he wants is exactly what Benny, Cas and Cain are offering. The problem is, he doesn’t know if he can have it. If he should even try. Not when the chances of it blowing up, not just in his face but in everyone’s, seems so high.

He shouldn’t be surprised to see Benny turn up just as the doorbell rings.

“You goin’ somewhere, chief?” Benny asks, his expression carefully neutral. Dean struggles to meet his eyes. His hindbrain wants nothing more than to go rub up against Benny and soak in his scent. It’s a struggle not to give into the temptation.

Ellen curses under her breath and makes her way to the front door, her pace glacial, no doubt hoping Benny will talk Dean out of what is undoubtedly a bad idea.

“You had a change of heart?” Benny asks. “Because I thought things worked out pretty good yesterday?”

Dean rubs at the back of his neck and fidgets with his tie again. “Yesterday was… yeah… it was… I enjoyed it. Y’all are awesome. But I… I don’t know if it’s such a good idea; me squeezing into your relationship like a third... no, a fourth wheel.”

Benny shakes his head. “Dean, that ain’t how it is. I thought you understood.”

The doorbell rings again.

“And Zachariah,” Dean pushes on, ignoring Benny’s argument. “He’s not happy.”

“Who gives a flying fuck if that asswipe is happy?”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for Ellen.” Dean finally meets Benny’s confused look. “I don’t want to cause anyone trouble. Adler said if I went on a couple more dates with alphas who’ve paid to be on Ellen’s books then the welfare agents might leave her alone.”

Benny curses up a wild storm that Dean didn’t think the gentle alpha was capable of. “You mean _he’ll_ leave her alone. Brother, that’s blackmail. And bullshit. You don’t have to—”

“Dean!” Ellen calls from the front hallway.

Dean’s heart sinks. The thought of going anywhere with another alpha and leaving Benny behind makes him feel sick to his stomach. But whether he likes it or not, he agreed to do this.

He squares his shoulders, and feigns casual indifference. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “It’s just a date.”

“With a stranger. Off the premises,” Benny growls, as Dean turns to walk away. “Dean, please, cher. Can’t we talk about this?”

“No.” Dean shuts him down, even though the scent of upset alpha is assaulting his nose. “I ain’t letting anyone else down.”

In all likelihood Dean’s just blown his only chance at happiness. No way are Benny, Cain or Cas going to want him after this. Just one day after he was soaking up their attentions like the needy omega his dad always warned him against being, and he’s already going off with another alpha.

He hates himself almost as much as they're going to hate him. But, maybe it’s better to put the brakes on now before things have a chance to get serious. Before promises are made. Or broken.

Dean’s date doesn’t go well. Uriel is a close friend of Zachariah’s and his personality is just as obnoxious as that dickwad’s. He’s as broad as a barn and the way he looms over Dean is designed to intimidate. His scent reminds Dean of curdled milk and his smile never once reaches his dark eyes.

Uriel takes Dean to a restaurant that’s too stuffy for Dean’s tastes. He can feel the waiters looking down their noses at him when he can't pronounce what he wants from the menu. To his annoyance, Uriel ends up taking over and ordering for him, his supercilious tone has Dean digging his fingers into his thighs to stop them curling into fists. Dean hates the too dry white wine that Uriel orders for both of them and can barely bring himself to eat the meal. It’s just as well the portions are tiny because it still looks as though Dean has eaten some of it when the plates are taken away. His stomach by that point is in knots, anxiety and Uriel’s sour scent having combined in the worst way.

When the waiter asks if they would like to see the dessert menu, Uriel refuses on behalf of them both, laughing with the supercilious asshole about Dean watching his weight. Dean is apoplectic, but instead of erupting like he normally would, he sits there with an icy smile trying to hide the murder in his eyes. He doesn’t want a fight; he just wants to get the hell out of there.

Thankfully Uriel drives them back to Fairdale afterwards, although the route he takes is anything but direct. His motive is obviously to milk the opportunity to talk at Dean. As if he hasn’t done enough of that over the past three hours.

Dean is ready to leap out of the car and into the house as soon as they arrive back at Fairdale. He wants a hot shower to wash Uriel’s stomach-turning stench off his skin as quickly as possible. When Dean yanks at the door handle, however, he discovers that Uriel has locked the car doors.

Dean tenses, prepared to punch the alpha in his face, if he so much as lays a finger on him. He doesn’t.

“I would like to take you out again tomorrow.”

Dean swallows back his irritated groan. With supreme effort, he manages to produce what he thinks is a generously polite response. “Thanks, but I don’t think that’s a good idea, dude.”

Uriel steeples his fingers together and hums. “And why, Dean Winchester, would it not be a good idea? You are an unmated omega and I am a wealthy respectable alpha. You should be grateful I wish to pursue you.”

“Grateful?” Dean snorts. “Man, I’m not desperate. The fact is, you and me, we ain’t compatible.”

“I’m sure Zachariah will be disappointed to hear that,” Uriel says, his voice growing cold. “He assured me that a second date would be available.”

“Available? I’m not a hooker. I’m not for sale, or rent.” Dean shoots back, unable to hide his rising temper. “Your buddy, Zachariah, ain’t got no right to make promises like that.”

Uriel nods calmly. “Of course, you’re right. And I know Ellen Harvelle runs her Den in strict adherence to the rules. Rules such as the omegas in her care dating only well-vetted alphas who are registered on her books and not any of whom are in a pre-existing relationship. Strict rules such as alphas in her employment not being allowed to fraternize with the omegas outside of a professional capacity.”

And just as quickly as it flared, Dean’s temper turns to ashes. He has no choice here. Dean knows Zachariah would be happy to cause trouble for Ellen, and apparently Uriel is a big enough dick to take advantage of that.

He’s been set up and there’s not much he can do about it.

“Fine,” he says, with little grace or enthusiasm. “One more date.”

“Wonderful,” Uriel says, dryly. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at three.”

“Whatever,” Dean growls. “Just unlock the damn door.”

Uriel smiles at him like he wants to eat him, but he unlocks the doors with the press of a button. Dean bolts from the car like Godzilla is in the driver’s seat.

He goes straight to his room, avoiding everyone, sits down on his bed and lets his head fall into hands.

He is so screwed.

He wants to see Uriel again about as much as fly would want to go on a second date with a spider.

As far as he can see, he hasn’t got much choice in the matter.

Before he drags himself to bed, he showers long enough that the water turns cold. Even then he doesn’t feel like he’s scrubbed the stench of Uriel’s odor from his skin. Despite his exhaustion, he sleeps for shit. He spends most of the night trying to work out how to fix all the stupid mistakes he’s made. By morning he’s no closer to figuring it out.

Breakfast consists of crappy coffee in his room. He doesn’t want to see Charlie in the dining hall. His stomach is too messed up to even consider eating anyway.

It’s selfish, but part of him wishes Benny, or Cain, or even by some miracle Cas, would drop by his room. He’s sure by now he’s blown his chances with them, but it sure would be nice to have someone to turn to with this. Someone to at least vent to. And despite himself, he knows their scents would be enough to calm the apprehension twisting in his belly. He’d also be lying if he said a hug right now wouldn’t go amiss.

Unfortunately, the only person who drops by is Ellen. And she’s the one person he definitely can’t explain the whole situation to. She’ll be furious and she’ll send Uriel packing rather than let Dean anywhere near him again. But she’s the one who’ll suffer if Zachariah kicks up a fuss, and he will, and Dean won’t let that happen.

So, instead of explaining why he’s going out with Uriel again, he lies, straight to her face, and says he wants to give the alpha one more shot.

She doesn’t believe a word of his bullshit. “Dean, honey, you have three alphas who are mad over you, why are you doing this?”

Dean struggles to come up with a reason that sounds believable. “I don’t know, Ellen. What are people going to think if I mate with three alphas? Maybe I should try harder to… to be normal.”

Ellen shakes her head. “You aren’t normal, kid. You’re an omega.”

“Yeah, and I’m not even normal for an omega.”

“Dean,” Ellen says, frustrated, “we’ve talked about this.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Ellen. I promised this douch—” Dean catches himself just in time. “This dude one more date. And that’s all this is. After that, maybe we can see where this thing with Benny, Cas and Cain is going. If there’s a chance it might work out. If they still want me.”

Ellen squints at him. “Is this some kind of test? Are you trying to push their buttons? Because I didn’t think you were the type of guy to play games.”

“No!” Dean snaps. “No, I wouldn’t do that. That’s not what this is.”

“Then what is it, Dean?”

Dean tugs at his hair in frustration. “I can’t explain, Ellen. Will you just trust me when I say that I have to do this?”

Ellen gives him a long look. “I trust that you _think_ you’re doing the right thing. I don’t trust this alpha. Or Zachariah.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, scrubbing his hand over his jaw. “Me neither. But I can take care of myself. How bad could it possibly be.”

The look Ellen gives him says it all. Pretty damn bad.

After Ellen leaves him to his brooding, Dean still has an hour or so to kill before Uriel is due to pick him up. Sick of staring at the walls of his room, he makes an escape to the gardens. Even the riot of blooming flowers and chirping of birds do little to improve Dean’s frame of mind. He takes a meandering walk to his favorite spot by the pond, stopping to pick up a pancake-shaped stone, skimming it across the surface to the other side, then apologizing to a pair of ducks that rage at him for disturbing their peace.

Cain’s familiar scent reaches Dean's nose, before he hears the alpha’s voice.

“Seems like you’ve upset the local residents,” Cain notes, coming to stand beside Dean, close enough that his scent curls around Dean like a comfort blanket. Dean relaxes for the first time in over a day.

“I’m pretty good at that,” Dean replies, looking out over the pond where the ducks are still glaring at him. “Upsetting people.”

“Dean,” Cain starts, tone soft. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“You won’t understand.”

“Perhaps not. Try me anyway.”

Dean keeps his attention out over the pond. It’s easier than looking at Cain. Easier to resist the temptation to throw himself into the alpha’s arms. Dean isn’t a hugger. He doesn’t understand why he’s so desperate for a comforting touch.

“Please, Dean,” Cain pushes gently. “I can smell that you’re upset. Let me help.”

“Did Benny send you out here to look for me?” Dean asks. Ellen will have undoubtedly told him about Dean’s plans with Uriel.

“No, though he is worried about you. I was out here tending to my bees actually.”

“Your bees?” Dean looks at him for the first time. And god, he looks as good as he smells. And his smile, worried as it is, makes Dean’s heart skip a beat.

“My bees. I find caring for them soothing. And they make the most delicious honey in the state.”

Dean can’t begin to imagine how messing around with hundreds of stingy insects could possibly be soothing, but each to their own.

“I fucked up,” Dean finds himself saying.

Cain hums, and waits for him to continue. The words that tumble from Dean’s lips in response are a mess of confused rambling.

“I don’t want to date anyone. I don’t want to meet any more alphas. I… I want to be with you and Benny and Cas. It’s all I can think about since the other night. But I know you guys are happy without me, you don’t really need me, and I… I don’t know how long you’re going to want to keep me around, and then Charlie said it wouldn’t work, that it’s not how things are meant to be, that it wasn’t natural, and then Zachariah warned me how bad this could all be for Ellen, and I just… I figured, this thing between us was bound to go up in flames anyway, I might as well just do what Zachariah wanted.”

“Dean.”

Dean tenses waiting for Cain’s words of disappointment, or censure.

“May I hold you?”

Dean throws himself into Cain’s arms before Cain can change his mind.

“You are right that Benny, Cas and I were content in our relationship before we met you. But that doesn’t mean we would be happy in the future without you. We know you would be taking a risk, committing to a relationship with three alphas, but I promise you we will not let you down.”

Dean buries his face in Cain’s shoulder, breathes in his scent.

“But as far as not being natural,” Cain’s voice turns rather more terse. “That’s bullshit, excuse my language. There is no law, no rule written or unwritten about who you should mate with. There’s nothing stopping an omega marrying a normal, or another omega. Nothing to say that two, or even three alphas can’t be in a loving relationship. What’s important is to follow your heart, and your instincts. And, if your friend has read any history books, she should know that, for some omegas, living in a pack with more than one alpha is perfectly natural.”

“She was just surprised, I think.” Dean feels the need to defend Charlie. “I know she didn’t mean to upset me.”

Cain smooths his hand down Dean’s back, keeping him tucked in tight. “As for Zachariah and Ellen, that is not something you should be concerned about.”

Dean tenses slightly in Cain’s arms. That sounds far too close to, don’t worry your pretty little omega head, for Dean to be comfortable with.

“If Ellen lands in trouble, that’s on me,” he argues, dragging himself out of Cain’s hold and taking a step back.

“No,” Cain says. “It’s not. You cannot shoulder the blame for things outside your control.”

“I’m pretty sure who I see is in my control though.”

“Dean,” Cain starts to argue.

“If I go on this date with Uriel, will I have blown my chances with you and Benny and Cas?” Dean asks, plainly.

“Of course not,” Cain assures him. “That’s not the issue. Zachariah and Uriel cannot be trusted. One more date will not be the end of the matter. If Zachariah thinks he can force you into uncomfortable meetings with his alpha friends, he will continue to pressure you. Let us deal with him.”

“I’m not dumb,” Dean fires back. “I know Zachariah is a nasty piece of work. But if I do this then he has nothing on Ellen. He can’t file a complaint against her if I can just as quickly complain about him whoring me out to his friends.”

Cain’s lips thin and Dean smells the anger rising in his scent.

“It’s fine. Uriel didn’t even touch me yesterday and if he tries anything today, I’ll break his face. I might not want to do this, but I’m not some helpless omega. I can look after myself.”

“Which is admirable,” Cain says. “But you do not always have to. You can allow other people to help.”

“I do,” Dean argues. “That’s why I came to the Den in the first place. For help. And I’m sure as hell not going to repay that help by fucking things up for Ellen.”

Dean takes a step forward, and places a chaste kiss to Cain’s lips. “I’m doing this. I hope I’ll see you when I get back, but I’ll understand if I don’t.”

And then he leaves, quickly, before he changes his mind, because the temptation to stay right there and cling to Cain is very real and very powerful.

But Dean wasn’t brought up to let other people fight his battles.

When Dean arrives back at the house, Uriel is already waiting for him in the driveway beside his flashy, but somehow still dull, BMW. He frowns at Dean’s casual appearance, his suit from yesterday having been discarded in favor of jeans, a henley and a flannel shirt. Clothes that Dean feels comfortable in.

“Are you changing?” Uriel asks him.

“Not for anyone,” Dean replies. “We ready to roll?”

“I suppose we are,” Uriel says, opening the car door for Dean.

Dean rolls his eyes but climbs in anyway. A look in the wing mirror as they drive away, shows Cain arriving with Benny just in time to watch them leave.

“So, where are we headed?” Dean asks.

“Church.” Is Uriel’s unexpected and unwelcome reply.

“Seriously?”

“My church is holding a social event, I thought we could attend.”

“I’m not really a church kind of guy,” Dean says.

“That’s obvious,” Uriel says, without a shred of humor. “All the more reason for you to accompany me today.”

Dean bites his tongue. He said he’d do this and he will. A few hours listening to Uriel’s sanctimonious bullcrap won’t kill him.

  
  
  


**CHAPTER EIGHT**

A few hours of listening to Uriel’s sanctimonious bullcrap might just kill Dean. It’s hot as hell inside the church hall although Dean seems to be the only one bothered by it, sweat dripping down his neck, his face no-doubt growing redder by the minute. Everyone else is dressed in their Sunday best even though it’s the middle of the week, obviously doing their utmost to impress Uriel. Because of course, Uriel doesn’t just attend church, he’s the goddamn preacher. And this church is everything Dean hates about religion. It’s not even the usual brand of closed-minded, bible-thumping, give me your money and I’ll get you into heaven, bullshit. It’s worse. These people are believers. And the shit they believe, it’s insane.

“You are so lucky,” a woman is saying to him. Debbie, Dean’s pretty sure is her name. Younger than her conservative dress style and severe hairstyle suggest, and so painfully condescending that Dean is seriously considering faking going into heat just to get rid of her. “We’ve been telling Uriel for years he should mate. But the preacher is so busy spreading the word of the Lord, he’s never taken the time to find himself a nice omega to settle down with.”

“Really,” Dean replies. He’s heard a similar speech from at least five other people. Uriel left him to the mercy of the crowd after he spent a good forty minutes sermonizing to the attendees with Dean frozen by his side. His strained smile disappearing altogether as it became more and more obvious how Uriel’s crazy brand of religion viewed poor unfortunate omegas,

“And you know how alphas are. They need an O’ to satisfy their natural urges.”

Their urges, Dean thinks. Seriously. “Do they?” he asks tightly.

“Of course. That’s why after the good Lord made normals and alphas, he made omegas; to serve and satisfy the alphas. And to procreate of course.”

“Of course,” Dean mutters, glowering at her.

Oblivious to Dean’s mounting irritation, Debbie blithely carries on. “Pastor Uriel’s brother Raphael, he’s an alpha too, is married to the most darling omega. She’s a tiny little thing. They’ve been mated two years now and have three adorable babies. Omegas really are terribly fertile, aren’t they? Even male ones so I hear? I hope you’ll be popping out lots of lovely babies if you’re lucky enough to lure Uriel in with your… charms. You are rather unusual for an omega, aren’t you, bless your soul.”

Dean’s face, he suspects, is almost purple.

“Debbie,” another woman, older and with a waspish face, slaps Debbie’s arm playfully before Dean can find the acceptable words to tell her to go fuck herself. “Look at you monopolizing Preacher Uriel’s young omega. I bet you’re talking the poor dear’s ears off.”

“I sincerely hope there’s no betting going on in my church,” Uriel says, joining them. “You know the Lord does not approve of gambling, Mrs. Shepherd.”

“Oh, Uriel,” the woman giggles. “You are so funny. Isn’t he, dear?”

“Oh sure, Uriel’s the funniest alpha in the church,” Dean says dryly when he realizes the old harpy expects a reply.

“I hope you’re behaving yourself with these lovely ladies,” Uriel says, arching a brow at Dean.

“I’m sure your young man is always impeccably behaved,” Debbie says. “Even if he is a little rough around the edges.”

The other woman joins in the conversation. All of them talking like Dean isn’t standing right the fuck there. “If not, a little spanking will soon solve a minor behavioral issue. As you always like to remind us, Uriel, omegas need a firm hand and a belly full of pups to find fulfilment. But of course, we need a wedding before a breeding, don't we?”

Dean stares at her. “What the f— “

“Ladies, if you’ll excuse us for a moment,” Uriel cuts in, taking hold of Dean's arm and leading him towards Zachariah who’s standing watching them gleefully from the corner of the room. Dean shrugs out of Uriel’s grip before they reach him.

“Dude, you lay your hand on me again and I’ll fucking flatten you in front of your flock,” Dean hisses low.

“Mind your tone with me, boy,” Uriel growls back. “Or I’ll take my belt to you right now in front of these decent God-fearing people.”

“Come now,” Zachariah says, intervening before Dean punches Uriel in the face. “We don’t want a scene, do we? Not here.”

“I don’t really give a damn,” Dean says.

“You should,” Zachariah says. “We don’t want word getting back to Omega Welfare about how out of control Ellen’s omegas are, do we?”

“And we don’t want word getting back to them that you’re trying to whore omegas out to your psychotic friends, do we?” Dean snaps back.

“Come now, Dean.” Zachariah’s smile makes Dean’s skin crawl. “Preacher Uriel inviting you to his church can hardly be misconstrued as whoring you out. I’m doing my best to lead you onto a respectable path of —”

“A path of what? Subservience?” Dean turns his anger back on Uriel. “What kind of crackpot church is this? Omegas need a good beating to keep them in line? Is that what you preach?”

“Omegas should know their place,” Uriel says.

“And where is that exactly?” Dean asks.

Uriel smirks at him. “Wherever their alpha decides.”

If Dean doesn’t get out of here, he’s going to start swinging. He’s not going to be able to stop himself.

“You’re deluded,” he spits at Uriel. “I don’t know what the hell you were expecting to achieve by parading me in front of your cult-friends but I’m telling you now, we’re not compatible. I’d rather mate with a goddamn moose than you and frankly a moose would probably smell better.”

Then Dean turns to Zachariah. “And if you try and fuck with Ellen, I’ll make sure everyone knows what a creep you are. Does the welfare agency approve of you being a member of this Alpha-supremacist church? Do they know?”

“Really, Dean, our church may be conservative but it’s hardly that,” Zachariah scoffs.

Dean isn’t listening though. He’s leaving.

Uriel makes the mistake of trying to stop him, grabbing his arm as he tries to walk away. “Would you really rather live a life of sin, and debauchery than bow down to an alpha who would show you the path to enlightenment, boy? The sooner you accept that omegas were born to submit, to give their bodies and souls to an alpha in exchange for protection, the sooner you will find contentment. I am offering you a place at my feet. Respectability. Would you prefer to give the gift of your virginity to a pack of alphas who would use you as a toy?”

Dean jerks his arm out of Uriel’s hold. “I’m not a goddamn virgin,” he snarls back, which isn’t the most outrageous thing Uriel just said but Dean is getting sick of repeating himself. “And I’d rather shoot myself in the face than kneel at your feet, you delusional prick.”

Dean storms out of the church hall, very aware of the gasps and shocked stares following in his wake.

He’d rather be back at Crowley’s club than here with these sanctimonious assholes. At least there, they didn’t pretend they wanted him for anything other than his ass. These twisted pseudo-religious douchebags want to fuck with his mind as much as his body. Stomping down on omegas, on any group of people, because God says it’s the way it should be, is a load of crap. Dangerous crap. Dean doesn’t understand how anyone falls for it. But then again, it’s a lot easier to fall for it if you’re not the one who’s going to get smacked around. Churches like this don’t make Dean lose his faith in God, but they sure as hell make him lose his faith in humanity.

“Winchester.”

The sound of Uriel yelling from behind him only makes Dean hasten his pace. And fuck, when did he get so out of shape that a fast walk makes his legs feel unsteady?

He’s outside, jogging down the church stairs when Uriel catches up to him. His hand clamping down on Dean’s shoulder.

“How dare you,” Uriel says. His eyes are almost popping out of his head, fury turning his scent even more bitter. “You think you can talk to me, a servant of God, like that, you worthless maggot?”

Dean shrugs him off. “I can do what the hell I want. I’m not a fucking pet that your buddy picked out for you at the pound.”

When Dean tries to walk away, Uriel grabs his wrist, tight enough that Dean can already feel a ring of bruises forming. Uriel drags him in close this time, shoves his face in the crook of Dean’s neck and inhales.

It takes a minute, and a brief struggle before Dean manages to break free, scrubbing his hand across his neck to erase the feeling of Uriel’s breath on him “What the fuck are you doing, you freak?”

Uriel grins, wide and cold. “Interesting. You don’t even know, do you?”

Dean almost falls down the last few steps trying to back away. Uriel follows.

“You’re going into heat... bitch.”

Dean stares at him, with the sinking feeling that he’s right. He’s not in heat, not yet, he isn’t leaking slick or popping a boner, but sweat is rolling down his back, his skin itches and he feels unsettled. Weird. If he hadn’t been creeped out just being in the church with those people he probably would have noticed earlier. Goddamn, of all the times it could happen.

“It’s at least a three mile walk back to Fairdale. You’re alone. Defenseless. What are the chances of you making it home safe? You think anyone would care if you didn’t? An omega in heat? Out in public. The police wouldn’t even blink if you disappeared. It would be your own fault. Dumb bitch asking for trouble.”

“You touch me and I’ll kill you, I swear,” Dean warns, low and mean as he can.

Uriel laughs, it’s not a pleasant sound. “How long will you be saying that for, Dean? An hour, two, maybe even three? And then you’ll be desperate for my knot.”

“That is never gonna happen,” Dean promises, backing away.

He knows Uriel is an asshole, but he doesn’t expect the alpha to grab him, not right there on the street.

“You’re going nowhere, boy,” Uriel says, tone dark and threatening. “Except the heat room in the church basement. A few hours locked into the breeding stand and you’ll be begging me to fuck you.”

Dean’s not some dainty helpless omega but Uriel is a solid guy, and has the advantage of possessing an alpha’s strength. Dean bucks and swings wildly, but his struggles only succeed in infuriating Uriel more. There’s no one on the street to help or hear Dean’s shouts. Uriel hauls Dean down an alleyway to the side door of the church.

“Get the fuck off me, you piece of shit,” Dean growls. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Uriel shoves Dean against the wall, his head crashing against the solid stonework hard enough to leave him dazed. Uriel shakes his shoulders, bouncing his head off the wall again for good measure. “Behave little O or I won’t be the only alpha knotting your virgin cunt tonight.”

There are lights popping behind Dean’s eyes, but that doesn’t stop him from making a run for it when Uriel lets go of him to unlock the side door.

His legs are unsteady, and his vision blurrier than he’d like, but he makes it back to the sidewalk before Uriel grabs him from behind.

“Get off me,” Dean warns, throwing his elbow back and catching Uriel in the ribs.

“I’m going to leave you bloody and broken if you don’t start behaving, bitch,” Uriel snarls in Dean’s ear as he starts to drag him backwards.

“Hey!”

The both pause in their struggle when a shout echoes down the street.

“Leave him alone.”

Castiel is right there, striding towards them, his coat flaring out behind him like a superhero’s cape. It’s possible that Dean has a concussion.

Uriel curses under his breath and tightens his grip on Dean’s arm.

“I said leave him alone, Uriel,” Cas says, his eyes blazing when he reaches them.

“Castiel,” Uriel sneers. “Mind your own business.”

With Uriel’s attention distracted, Dean takes the opportunity to kick the alpha in the knee and twist out of his hold. He’d like to say he doesn’t immediately dart to Cas’ side, but he would be lying. Cas’ scent is stronger than ever, enveloping him in a sense of safety and comfort.

Uriel’s grunt of pain is replaced quickly by one of rage, but when he strides towards Dean, fists raised, Cas is quicker, stepping in front of him. And it’s Cas who throws the first punch when Uriel tries to step around him to get to Dean. Uriel reels backwards holding his face. Cas may not be as broad as Uriel, not as bull-like, but he’s filled with righteous fury and apparently packs a mean right hook. Dean can’t help but be impressed.

He doesn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him, but it’s nice to find that someone has his back.

“What’s wrong, Castiel?” Uriel asks, spite dripping from his words, rather like the blood that is now dripping from his nose. “I’m just trying to save this poor boy from being corrupted by your sinful ways. Save him from becoming a toy for you and your alpha friends to play with. I can save his soul. Don’t you think he deserves that?”

“My soul doesn’t need saving,” Dean answers for himself, edging out from behind Cas. “Yours could do with some work though. You ask me, it withered up and died when you weren't paying attention.”

Cas takes Dean’s hand, slips their fingers together, tentatively at first until Dean grips on tight.

“Your relationship is an abomination,” Uriel spits at Cas, ignoring Dean completely. “Three alphas living together? Fucking? That’s a mockery of the church, and God’s laws.”

“Your so-called church has nothing to do with God,” Cas fires back. “You’ve twisted his word to meet your own ends. God is love. Not hate, not fear, not control. You’re nothing but a charlatan, Uriel, a scam artist, and one of these days you and Zachariah will both pay for the things you do, the people you hurt, in the name of religion.”

Witnessing Cas like this is nothing short of a revelation. Dean knew the alpha was secretly a badass after their run-in with Abaddon and her henchmen, but actually seeing him radiating with the power of his anger, watching Uriel blanch under the weight of his glare, well, to be honest… it’s a huge turn on.

And, while usually that wouldn’t be a bad thing, right now Dean is on the cusp of his first heat.

Dean leans in to whisper in Cas’s ear. “Can we please just get out of here.”

Unfortunately, Uriel decides now is the time to remember Dean exists. “If you leave now, Dean, you’re walking into a life of sin and depravity.” He warns. “Your relationship will never be accepted by the church.”

“Or by any decent person,” Zachariah adds, appearing suddenly and walking towards them from the church steps.

Cas growls by Dean’s side at the sight of Adler. Dean just rolls his eyes. He’s had more than enough of Zachariah’s smarmy bullshit.

“And you can tell Ellen to expect a visit from the Omega Welfare Service,” Adler threatens.

Uriel’s shoulders roll back, his posture straightening now that he has Zachariah on side.

Cas gives Dean’s hand a reassuring squeeze before releasing it, and striding up to Zachariah. “I’ve already talked to Omega Welfare Services, and trust me, they are far more interested in the fact you used your position of authority to blackmail an omega into accepting a date with your friend. And that you are an active recruiting member of a church that’s facing a number of criminal allegations.”

Zachariah’s face goes through a number of expressions, none of which make him look more attractive than a dying toad.

Cas stabs his finger at Zachariah’s chest. “Stay away from the Den. Stay away from me. And stay the hell away from Dean.”

Zachariah gulps.

Uriel lets out a low rumble that’s either a growl or a groan.

Dean very nearly swoons. Instead, keeping his dignity more or less intact, he grabs Cas’ arm and tugs hard. The stench of angry alpha should probably go some way towards cooling Dean’s approaching heat. And though Uriel’s scent has turned from sour to downright foul, watching Cas defend his honor is doing all kinds of weird things to Dean’s hormones.

“Um… Cas,” he says. “Can we blow this popsicle stand now?”

Cas is squaring up to Uriel, more focused on eviscerating the preacher than actually listening to Dean. Deciding a more drastic approach is needed, Dean wraps himself around the posturing alpha like a slightly manic koala bear. If Dean wasn’t dizzy with either a minor head injury or his fast approaching heat he’d be mortified at his own public display. As it is, he needs Cas to get his head in the game. “Alpha, I’m going into heat. Take me home. Now.”

Cas breathes in deep, inhaling Dean’s scent. “Dean,” he groans, lips brushing against Dean’s neck. “God, you smell—”

“He smells like a whore. Take your bitch and get out of here, Castiel,” Uriel interrupts with a snarl, spitting on the sidewalk where they’re standing. The interruption is unwelcome. Especially as getting out of there is exactly what Dean has wanted all along. And the whore was just uncalled for, and it’s why Dean unwraps himself from Castiel just long enough to punch Uriel in the face. His nose, already hurt from Castiel’s earlier blow, bursts like a fountain, spouting blood over Uriel’s shirt, his tie, his suit and the sidewalk.

“I ain’t a whore,” Dean snarls, feeling a huge burst of satisfaction at seeing Uriel bent double and clutching his face. “Or a bitch.”

It’s not until he hears an audible gasp that Dean looks up and notices the crowd of wide-eyed women watching the unfolding drama from the church steps. Dean winks at them, which only causes more shocked mutterings to ripple through the group.

“And we are leaving,” Cas adds, taking hold of Dean’s arm and all but dragging him backwards.

“Well,” Dean says. “That was fun.”

Cas scowls at him as he marches them towards a gold monstrosity of a car, one that Dean recognizes from the shit show back at Crowley’s club. God, was that really only a few nights ago? It feels like years.

Cas bundles Dean in the passenger seat before hurrying around to the driver's side, and slamming the door behind him. He grips the steering wheel, rests his head back on the seat and closes his eyes.

Dean, who’s patience is not legendary, nudges him after a minute. “You alright there, Cas?”

“I’m fine,” Cas says, though the way his words struggle to make it past his teeth suggest otherwise.

Dean manages to bite his tongue for a full thirty seconds before speaking again. “You want me to drive?”

Cas sighs, opens his eyes and glares at him. “I’m trying not to climb on top of you and lick the sweat from your skin. If you could give me a moment to regain my composure it would be appreciated.”

That silences Dean. For approximately five seconds.

“Or,” he says, ignoring the dark look that Cas gives him. “And I’m just putting this out there, you could slam your foot on the gas, drive me back to yours, and Cain, Benny, you and me could have a little fun.”

“Dean,” Cas says, exasperated. “You’re going into heat.”

“I get that, Cas,” Dean grins. “The slick leaking from my hole every time you growl at me is a bit of a giveaway.”

Cas’s fingers clench on the steering wheel, and his scent grows even thicker in the car. “I am trying to do the responsible thing here and you… you are not helping,” Cas says, voice strangled.

“Look,” Dean says, trying his best to sound reasonable, even though sweat is beading on his forehead and his shirt is now sticking to his back. He hopefully has a couple of hours before his heat truly hits, but they don’t have much time to waste. “If this whole thing with Uriel and Zachariah has fucked up my chances with the three of you, I understand, I mean, I’ll be fucking devastated, but I’ll get it.”

“No, Dean,” Cas says. “No, that’s… absolutely not. Uriel and Zachariah are the ones at fault here. And while we didn’t want to pressure you into accepting our attempts at courting you, Cain, Benny and I also have to take some of the blame in letting you go off at Adler’s bidding without a fight. I should have stepped in as soon as I heard Uriel’s name mentioned.”

“Cool,” Dean says, not particularly wanting to get into a discussion about who fucked up worse. There will be time to dissect Dean’s crappy life choices later. Now, he wants to go someplace safe where he can spend his heat with three ridiculously hot alphas. “So, can we go find Benny and Cain because I’m gonna be begging for a knot soon.”

The muscle in Cas’ jaw ticks. “Dean, I’m not sure it would be right for us to take advantage of you when you aren’t thinking clearly. Spending a heat with one alpha, never mind three, is something you should give a great deal of consideration to.”

“Cas, swear to God, you suggest I’m heat addled right now and I’m gonna start swinging. Again. I’m in my right mind. And I fully consent to getting fucked senseless by you and your alpha mates. You asked me to join you, and unless you’ve changed your mind, my answer is yes. Hell yes.”

Cas shifts uncomfortably beside him. “But…”

“Look,” Dean says, taking a deep breath. “I know this is early in our relationship, heck, we don’t even have a relationship to speak of, but I’m going into heat, something I’ve never done. I’m… I’m scared, Cas, and I don’t want to go through this alone. I want to do it with alphas I trust. Alphas I… I think I could have something special with, if I get the chance. I’m only gonna ask one more time, please, alpha, take me home.”

Whatever argument Cas had dries on his tongue. He looks at Dean with an expression so tender Dean can barely stand it. Thankfully it only lasts a few seconds before he looks away, and finally, turns the key in the ignition.

The drive back to the Den seems to take twice as long as it should.

“I’ll wait here for you,” Cas says when he draws up in front of the building. “I think you will be more comfortable spending your heat in the privacy of our home than in your quarters, but you should grab your things. And let Ellen know what is happening. And perhaps,” he hesitates for a moment. “Perhaps, take a few moments, without my scent clouding your judgement, to make sure this is really what you want.”

It’s cute that Cas is taking the issue of Dean’s consent so seriously, so Dean resists the temptation to scoff, and settles for placing a kiss on his temple instead. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he reassures the alpha. And then tacks on a stern warning. “Do not go anywhere.”

As Dean knew, even given a little breathing room away from Cas’ intoxicating scent, he’s still determined he wants to spend his heat with Cas, Benny and Cain. What he said to Cas was true. He doesn’t want to spend this heat alone. Not if he can help it. And maybe this thing with these alphas won’t work out, maybe they’ll figure out sooner rather than later that Dean doesn’t have much to offer. That he’s cut a little strange, has too many jagged edges to be the final piece of their puzzle. But, if he can have them for a few days, that’s better than nothing.

As Dean expected, Ellen isn’t impressed. But other than lock him in his room which would break all kinds of rules, there’s not much she can do. As he points out to her while he’s throwing a change of clothes into his bag. He came here to find an alpha so at least her job is done.

“It’s not the fact that you found an alpha, three alphas even, that I have a problem with, Dean Winchester. You know that all I want is for you to be happy.” Ellen crosses her arms over her chest as she watches him pack. “What I have a problem with is you jumping straight into bed with them. There’s supposed to be a courtship.”

“Well, tell that to my hormones,” Dean says, picking up his bag. “It’s not like I chose for this to happen right now. You’re the one that told me to stop taking my suppressants.”

“We have heat rooms,” Ellen points out. “You could spend the next few days in one of them. They have everything you need, and Missouri and I will be on hand to make sure you’re okay.”

“And will my alphas be in the heat room?”

“Obviously not.”

“Then thanks but no thanks,” Dean says.

Ellen follows him out of his room. “Dean, wait.”

Dean stops, turning to face her, squaring his shoulders in expectation of another lecture. Ellen grabs his hand, her expression serious. “Are you sure this is what you want? Really what you want? That if you weren’t in heat, you’d still want to be with these three alphas?”

“Yes,” Dean says. “I’m sure, Ellen. I know the timing kind of sucks, but I’m not some clueless kid. I know what I want. What I need. And as long as they’ll have me, it’s them.”

Ellen pats his cheek. “That’s all I needed to know, honey. Okay, go get your guys. And unless you want to hear the pitter patter of tiny feet in nine months’ time, don’t forget to take your birth control.”

“Oh my god, Ellen,” Dean groans.

“I'm just saying, boy. There’s a reason nature sends omegas into heat and it’s not just for the amazing orgasms.”

Dean groans again. “Please stop talking.”

Ellen laughs at him. “Get out of here,” she says. “And don’t forget to stay hydrated. Heat takes a lot out of you. And be careful of chafing. And remember to eat. Food. Not just…”

“Stop talking now,” Dean says, leaving before she can impart any more words of wisdom that will put him off sex altogether. Although at this point, he doesn’t think anything will put him off sex.

  
  
  


**CHAPTER NINE**

  
  


The combined scent of Cas, Benny and Cain is almost too much for Dean to bear. He’s lightheaded from just sitting in the same room. Waves of arousal keep washing over him, and his dick has been rock hard since he walked into the alphas’ home. He knows for a fact that when he stands up everyone is gonna see that the ass of his jeans is soaked through with slick.

The alphas aren’t unaffected. They can hear his labored breaths, see his flushed skin, doubtless smell his arousal building to a peak. Cain is managing to keep his composure well enough, or doing a good job of faking it, but Benny and Cas keep edging closer to Dean, noses in the air and bulges very obvious in their pants.

“Eat,” Cain says, again. “You’re all going to need your energy.”

At least he’s not asking for the hundredth time if Dean is okay. Dean’s starting to sound like a broken record; yes, he’s fine. No, Uriel didn’t bash his head hard enough against the wall to impair his faculties or give him brain damage. Yes, he’s absolutely, one hundred percent, certain he wants to spend his heat with the three of them in their home.

Dean hadn’t given much thought to the alphas’ living arrangements. It turns out they live in a cottage just beyond the edge of the Den’s grounds. The outside of the place is pretty, with honeysuckle growing up the stone walls, the inside neat and clean, if a little old-fashioned. The house smells like heaven to Dean, with the alphas’ scent hanging heavy in the air.

Dean hasn’t been allowed near the bedroom yet. Cain was adamant they should eat and talk before Dean’s heat took a proper hold of him. Dean is horny enough that he’d jump into bed straight away, and though Benny and Cas would be happy to do the same, they all know Cain is right. That fact isn’t stopping them from subtly, probably unconsciously, working their way towards him in the kitchen.

Dean has pretty much given up on his sandwich, delicious as it is. He manages two more bites under Cain’s scrutiny before admitting defeat.

“Dean?” Benny says, “you okay, cher?”

Dean breathes out through his mouth unsteadily, his fingers gripping the edge of the table. “I’m leaking slick and I’m two minutes away from dropping to my knees right here,” he admits.

“Shower,” Cain says, and even his voice isn’t as steady as it was. “You should go take a cool shower.”

A frustrated whine rings through the room. Dean thinks perhaps he was responsible for it.

“Just a quick shower,” Cain says. “I promise it will help. It’s going to be a long few days, Dean. You need to pace yourself. Here, I’ll show you the way.”

Benny and Cas both grumble, and Dean catches a glimpse of Benny pushing Cas up against the wall in a bruising kiss as Cain ushers him from the kitchen.

“Trust me, Dean, you aren’t the only one keen to get on with things,” Cain says, tightly. “But this is a marathon, not a sprint.”

Dean tries not to pout.

The upstairs of the cottage is like a different house from the cozy rooms downstairs. There have obviously been renovations made leaving only two rooms. A bathroom and a bedroom. The bathroom contains a bathtub big enough for at least two grown men to lie in and a huge shower with enough chrome heads and knobs that it takes Dean five minutes to figure out how to work it. Once he does, the pressure is a dream. Any other time Dean would be reluctant to step out from underneath the beating water. Now though, there’s a buzzing under his skin, a fever spreading through his bones, that a cool shower can’t cure.

Dean doesn’t spend much time drying off before he wraps a fluffy green towel around his waist and follows the scent of his alphas to where it’s strongest.

As soon as Dean walks into the bedroom, he falls deeply in love. The alphas’ bed is the biggest, comfiest looking piece of furniture Dean has ever set eyes on. It’s unsurprisingly big. Obviously handmade and one of a kind. More than wide enough to sleep the three not-insubstantial alphas and still leave room to spare. The bed is made-up neatly, sheets tucked in and pillows lined up against the slatted oak headboard.

Dean’s glad that none of the alphas had a chance, or thought, to put fresh sheets on the bed because he can still smell the faint scents of Benny, Cas, and Cain mingled together on the white linen, and it’s intoxicating. A siren song beckoning him closer.

He doesn’t give it a second thought before, discarding his towel, he draws back the covers and crawls into his alphas’ bed, the cotton sheets blissfully cool under his heated skin. Dean rolls around in the bed, soaking up the scents. He ends up lying on his belly somewhere in the middle of the mattress, his face buried in a pillow, inhaling deeply. Despite the fever now coursing through his body, the uncertainty of his first heat, Dean has never felt safer in his life.

That’s where the alphas find him a few minutes later.

“Goddamnit.” Benny’s is the first voice Dean hears. “Look at what crawled into our bed. If that ain’t the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“And the hottest,” Cas says next, his voice an even deeper growl than normal.

“Dean,” Cain’s voice joins them, sounding more ragged than Dean’s ever heard. “You’re going to kill us before we even get started, boy.”

Dean rolls over onto his back, his legs splaying wide. “Need you,” he says, his hand skimming down his stomach towards his dick. “Please, alphas.”

There’s a skirmish at the bottom of the bed, the alphas racing to discard their clothes as quickly as possible. Cain retains his dignity only slightly better than the other two who almost topple over each other in their rush. Dean would be amused if he wasn’t dizzy with need.

“How do you want to do this, Dean?”

It takes a supreme effort for Dean to focus on Cain’s words. His fingers curl around his dick as he blinks up at the three naked alphas staring down at him. God, they’re gorgeous. From Cas’ paler skin to the dark tan of Benny, from Cain’s thick grey-haired chest to the sharp cut of Cas’ hips, from Benny’s dark treasure trail to Cain’s thickly muscled thighs. Dean wants to get his mouth on each of them so badly he’s in danger of drooling.

“Dean?” Cain repeats. “Tell us what you want. Who you want?”

“Want you all,” Dean says, unhelpful but honest. “Please.” He bites at his lip, his dick jerking in his hand and a fresh burst of want pulsing through him as he imagines being knotted by any of these alphas. He closes his eyes, fighting every instinct that is telling him to roll back over, to get to his knees, to present himself like a desperate bitch to his alphas.

“Jesus,” Benny murmurs.

Cas kneels on the bed beside him, runs his fingers through Dean’s hair. “You’ve never done this before, Dean. Never let an alpha knot you. And we don’t want to hurt you.”

“And we promise that we won’t hurt you,” Benny assures him quickly, climbing on to the bed at the other side of Dean. “We want your first time to be special, sweetheart. To be what you want.”

“It would have been better if your first time with an alpha was not while you were in heat,” Cain says. “But seeing as how you’re too stubborn to wait—”

“This ain’t the time for a lecture, Cain,” Benny cuts in. “Come on, darlin’, give us something to work with here. What do you want this first time?”

Dean wants one of them to touch him. He wants to feel them all touching him. He doesn’t want to have a conversation about it. And he doesn’t want to choose. He didn’t know that when they talked about omegas going into heat, they meant it so literally. He’s burning up. Sweat dripping down his face, beading across his collar bone. He can taste the salt of it on his lips. Can hear the roar of his blood rushing through his veins.

His dick is so hard now it’s painful and he feels so weirdly empty he thinks he might go mad.

“Please,” is all Dean ends up saying. Begging. “Please touch me.” And then caving into his instincts, even though he thinks he might hate himself for it later, he rolls over onto his knees, dips his spine and shoves his ass into the air.

“Fuck,” Benny curses.

And at last there are hands brushing across his skin, cupping his face, kisses placed reverently on the back of his neck, the ball of his shoulder, trailed down the knobs of his spine. And then he’s being manhandled, gently pushed and tugged around until he’s straddling a warm body below him. And he’s being kissed so gently it’s almost frustrating except for how it’s somehow perfect.

Barely realizing he’d closed them, Dean opens his eyes to see Cas staring back up at him.

“You’re beautiful,” Cas says, tracing his thumb over Dean's bottom lip, before kissing him again.

“You sure are, sugar,” Benny says in his ear. Then cruelly, Cas’ lips leave Dean’s but before Dean can utter a complaint, Benny and Cas are kissing over Dean’s shoulder and it’s so freaking hot he thinks he might explode. The pitiful whine he lets out isn’t intentional.

“Don’t tease the boy.”

Dean turns his head to see Cain watching from a chair beside the bed, holding his dick loose in his hand. Dean licks his lips. He can tell just by looking at it that Cain's knot is gonna be huge. Once Cain ties him, they’re probably gonna be stuck for hours.

“Cain,” Dean manages to say, as Benny starts kissing his way down Dean’s back again.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas says, pressing a kiss to Dean’s cheek. “Cain likes to watch.”

“Need you all,” Dean murmurs.

“And you’ll get us all, don’t worry,” Cain tells him. “We have plenty of time. First Benny is going to take his time licking you open, making sure you’re good and ready, and then he’s going to fuck you with his thick dick until you see stars. When he’s done, while you’re still dripping with his come, Cas will slide right in and fuck you so hard you’ll forget your name.”

“We’re going to make you feel so good, Dean,” Cas promises him, between kisses. “And once we’re done, Cain will fuck you long, slow and sweet. He’s going to drive you out of your mind.”

And that’s pretty much how it goes down.

Benny eats him out so thoroughly Dean comes before he’s near done. The scrape of Benny’s beard against his heat-sensitive skin as Benny holds his ass open and sucks the slick from his hole, is enough to send him shooting off like a rocket. It takes the edge off enough that Dean manages to find the coordination to suck Cas off when Benny eventually sinks inside of him.

Being caught between the two alphas, consumed so completely, is the hottest thing Dean has ever experienced, especially with Cain talking them through it. Telling Dean how pretty he is, how special, how good he is. Cas is boneless beneath him, his come still leaking from Dean lips, by the time Benny finally shoves his knot in Dean’s hole and ties them together.

Sex has always —usually— been fun for Dean. He’s good at it. Enjoys making other people happy, loves getting off. But even the best sex that Dean has ever had, doesn’t compare to this. Benny’s dick buried deep in his ass, his knot locking them together, Cain’s mellow voice telling him what a good boy he is, Cas’ fingers tangled in his hair, is a revelation. Dean seizes, coming so suddenly, so violently, with a gut-punch rush of pleasure that he whites out.

He couldn’t tell you how long he’s out for, only that when he becomes aware of his surroundings again he’s lying on his side, Benny wrapped around him from behind, Cas’ face buried in Dean’s neck, mouthing at the sensitive skin below his ear, and Cain wrapped around Cas, his hand draped over Dean’s waist.

Dean’s still thrumming with his orgasm, not intensely, but tiny delicious tremors that vibrate from his toes up through every atom of his body. Benny’s tied to him, his knot filling Dean so perfectly that Dean can’t imagine how he survived this long without knowing what it felt like to be a part of something this fulfilling.

It’s no less magical, no less powerful, when Cas knots him through his next wave of heat a few hours later, Benny and Cain jerking each other off as Cas grasps bruises into Dean’s hips and mouths with intent at his neck.

Dean isn’t even mindless with heat-hunger when Cain finally knots him. Cas hasn’t long untied and Dean’s a leaking mess of come and slick, sweat gathering in places he didn’t even think could sweat and he wants Cain just because he can have him and not because his body is telling him he needs him.

Benny’s knot was as thick as the man himself and Cas’ was as big as his fist and pressed against Dean’s insides so perfectly it was like it was made just for Dean. Cain though, Cain is built like an alpha from the dirtiest kind of porn flick. With a dick as thick as a coke can and a knot made to ruin twinky omega virgins.

Dean would argue at being labelled a twink even though he knows he’s not much beyond that and he’s no longer a virgin in any way he can think of, but he’s still as nervous as he is slick-drip needy when Cain lines up behind him and presses his dick home.

Benny and Cas are lying either side of him, peppering kisses to his jaw, his chest, the freckles across his shoulder, anywhere they can reach, as Cain folds Dean in two, his thighs almost up round his ears. This face-to-face position is probably going to be as awkward as hell after Cain ties with him, but Dean doesn’t care, not right now when he can watch the concentration on Cain’s face, the hunger in his eyes.

Although he’s gentler than both Benny and Cas, and although Dean’s hole sure isn’t as tight as it was eight hours ago, Dean’s breath catches in his throat when Cain pushes his dick in. It feels like the stretch is never ending, like Dean should be able to fucking taste Cain’s dick by the time he’s balls deep. Cain holds himself still for a minute, Benny and Cas whispering words of praise against Dean’s skin, stroking his cock back to full hardness where it fell limp from the throbbing pressure of Cain’s porno alpha dick shoving inside of him.

Even though he knows it's the worst thing he can do, Dean can’t help but tense when Cain starts moving. Cain, with the willpower of a goddamn saint, immediately freezes until Benny and Cas distract Dean with hot mouths and clever fingers. The first few thrusts of Cain’s hips aren’t painful but they are uncomfortable, but then it’s like a slow dawning epiphany. The stretch of Cain’s dick inside him, the scrape of Benny’s teeth across his nipples, the sweet taste of Cas’ lips against Dean’s, lifting him higher and higher into an ecstasy he’s never even imagined before.

Dean’s whining into Cas’ mouth, shaking with need when Cain starts to chase his orgasm, his heavy balls slapping loud against Dean’s ass as his pace increases. He pounds faster, harder, the bed creaking under the onslaught. Dean screams when his knot catches, his orgasm punching through him fierce enough to steal his breath, and consciousness. Again.

Dean’s heat lasts for four days. They don’t spend the entire time screwing around. Dean doubts he’d ever walk again if they did. In between the rolling waves of his heat, Cain makes sure they all eat and hydrate. Even finding the time to bake a pie so delicious the noises Dean makes while eating it leads to him sucking off three insanely horny alphas who should be conserving their energy for when Dean’s out of his mind with want. He sure doesn’t complain though. Kneeling on the kitchen floor while they tower over him, sucking down one cock and jerking off the other two, is one of the dirtiest things he’s ever done. And is such a fucking turn on, he comes without a hand on his dick when the first load of hot alpha spunk hits his face.

  
By day five Dean’s heat has passed. He wakes up in the middle of a heavy-limbed puppy pile stinking of sweat and sex. His mouth tastes like something curled up and died in it overnight, and his ass is aching in a way that isn’t entirely pleasant. He definitely feels like he’s been rode hard and put away wet. He also feels weirdly content.

It’s a minor miracle that he succeeds in climbing out of bed with only a disgruntled huff from Cain and a flailing arm from Benny catching him across the back of his head. Walking away from them, even to go just as far as the shower, is tough, almost physically painful. But, god, he seriously needs to clean up. Now that his heat has ended, he’s very aware of just how rank he smells.

He cleans his teeth first, looking at himself in the huge bathroom mirror. He definitely looks like he’s had a wild time of it. His hair is worryingly sticky and spiking up in every direction like a punk hedgehog. His lips definitely look puffier than normal, swollen and sensitive. And his legs are more bowed than ever. His skin is a canvas of possessive fingermarks, bruises, and hickeys.

He doesn’t have a single mating bite though. Not that he expected one. 

Dean feels rather more respectable after standing under the muscle-massaging warm jets of the shower for ten minutes. The water eases out some of the cramps and aches his body has stored up over the past four days. And it’s nice to wash away the sticky layers of sweat that were starting to make his skin itch. It’s not until it dawns on him that he’s also washed away every trace of his alphas’ scents that he begins to feel uncomfortable. Anxiety and doubt creeping into his brain.

Dean had honestly been dreading his heat. He’d hated the idea of having no control over his body, over his fevered mind. Of having to rely on anyone else when he was so defenseless. But the vulnerability and fear he’d expected to experience when his biology took over had never materialized. With Cain and Benny and Cas he’d felt nothing but safe. Protected. Cherished in a way he’d never known. Never expected to enjoy.

Now it’s over, he suddenly feels… empty. Hollowed out. Strangely bereft. Maybe it’s just that his hormones are all over the place. His mood sinking now the rush of his heat is over. Maybe it’s not.

He’s not so sure the alphas will want anything to do with him now that his body is no longer pumping out “fuck me” pheromones. Maybe one taste of just how needy Dean is during a heat, how exhausting he is, will be enough to scare off the three of them. It’s not like they need him anyway. They were perfectly happy without him before. Cas, Benny and Cain in their cozy house, handcrafted bed and steady relationship. There may not be room for Dean in any of it.

And if they decide they don’t need an omega, not one as awkward and uncomfortable in his skin as Dean, what then?

Dean can’t begin to imagine himself with anyone else.

He wonders if his dad will be more or less disappointed in him if he comes home without a mate.

“I could hear you thinking from the bedroom.”

Dean almost jumps out of his skin. He probably would have slid across the shower stall floor and knocked himself out on the tiles if not for the hands that just slid around his waist, holding him steady.

“Jesus,” Dean says. “You almost gave me a heart attack. You need to wear a damn bell, Cas.”

“And you need to come back to bed, Dean,” Cas says, nudging his face sleepily into the crook of Dean’s neck while keeping himself out from under most of the shower spray. “We miss you.”

“My heat’s over,” Dean points out, grumpily. “And I smelled gross.”

Dean wishes Cas could read his mind. Could know that what he really means is I’m freaking out and I’m scared you won’t want me now.

Cas wraps his arms tighter around Dean’s waist, skims his teeth across the back of Dean’s neck. “You smelled beautiful. You smelled like us.”

Dean huffs, his stomach churning with anxiety.

“Come back to bed, Dean,” Cas mumbles against his shoulder.

“Cas,” Dean starts to argue, though he doesn’t really know why.

“Please, Dean,” Cas says, reaching over him to turn the shower off.

Dean roughly dries himself as he follows Cas back to the bedroom, his eyes pretty much stuck on the lazy sway of Cas’ ass the whole way there. He’s spent days in bed with the alphas but somehow he doesn’t feel like he’s had enough opportunity to appreciate how gorgeous they are. Cas has a beautifully tight ass and Dean could spend days pressing kisses into the sinful groove of his hips.

Benny and Cain are both sprawled out in the bed, but they have been up long enough to open the windows in an effort to air out the room and to change the bedsheets which Dean is grateful for. He wasn’t looking forward to climbing back into that mess. Finding a clean spot in among the damp ruins had become impossible.

Despite their efforts the bedroom is still thick with the smell of sex, and satisfied alpha. Cas climbs back into bed first; Benny chuckling and slapping his ass when he clambers less than gracefully across Benny’s spread legs to lie between him and Cain.

Dean pauses, rooted to the spot as his gaze drifts over the three alphas, his mouth turning dry. Three sets of blue eyes stare back up at him.

“Dean,” Cain says. “What’s wrong?”

Dean bites at his lip. He doesn’t know what to say that won’t make him sound like a needy kid. These alphas look so at home together. Completely at ease and attuned to one another. From where Dean’s standing it doesn’t look like there’s room for him. Or need.

“You’re not turning shy on us now are you, darlin?” Benny asks, his smile wide and open.

Dean rubs anxiously at the back of his neck. “I… what happens now?” He eventually manages to choke out.

“We were hoping you’d come back to bed,” Cain says.

“But, I’m not… my heat’s over… and… I… we….” Dean’s never been good with words but now he seems to have lost his basic grasp on the English language.

Cas wriggles across the mattress so he’s snug against Benny and pats the empty space between him and Cain. He eyes droop to half-closed and he looks like he’s ready to fall asleep again. To be fair, they all have a fair amount of sleep to catch up on after the past few days. “Dean,” Cas says. “Snuggle.”

Dean shuffles his feet, undecided between crawling into bed and attempting to find his underwear so he can run away.

“Talk to us, cher,” Benny says. “What’s troubling you? You having regrets?”

“No,” Dean replies immediately, he can assure them of that without any hesitation. “No, I don’t. Do you?”

Cas snorts. “Don’t be an idiot.”

Benny pinches Cas’ thigh. “What this smooth-takin’ angel means is no, we don’t.”

“But you don’t want to mate me?” Dean blurts out, cringing at the butt-hurt whine in his own voice.

Cain sits up. Cas opens his eyes which had drifted shut and Benny tenses, his fingers digging hard enough into Cas’ side to make Cas grumble.

“We very much want to mate you,” Cain says. “I’m sorry if we didn’t make that clear.”

Dean palms at his neck and tries, and fails, not to stammer. “But none of you even asked, or tried, or… we didn’t… you know… not even when you were knotting me.”

Miraculously they seem to understand what Dean is saying without him actually saying it. “You were in heat, Dean,” Cain replies. “We would never have given you a mating bite under those circumstances. Especially not without discussing it thoroughly beforehand.”

“Oh.” That does make sense, Dean has to admit. “So, you do want me to… join your pack?” Dean isn’t sure that’s the right way to phrase whatever this is, but it’s the best he can come up with. Like he said, he’s not always great at englishing. “Because, I thought maybe I fucked everything up when I went off with Uriel.”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Dumbass.”

“Hey,” Benny interjects swiftly. “Why don’t we just call it misguided?”

“Less dumb and less ass,” Cain agrees.

“But I like ass,” Cas argues.

Dean thinks they’re drifting from the point. “You all seem happy. Without me. I can’t see why you even need me?”

“We want you,” Benny says. “I swear, darlin’. You walk away now and we’d be brokenhearted. All of us. This is real. For life. It’s not a heat fling. Not for us. It’s a lifetime thing.”

“You belong with us,” Cain adds. “Can’t you feel it, Dean? Truly? When you listen to your senses? Your heart? Your scent combines with ours to make something new, something wonderful. I believe we were destined to be together.”

“We love you, assbutt,” Cas says, patting the bed beside him. “Now snuggle. Sleep. Talk later. After coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. And pancakes.”

Benny grins down at Cas who is glaring up at Dean through one half-opened eye as though this whole conversation is a waste of precious napping time.

Part of Dean, the insecure part of himself that he tries to keep buried down deep, still thinks they might all be mad, but for once, just this one time, he ignores his gnawing self-doubt, and obeys an alpha’s order.

It turns out not to be the worst decision he ever made.

  
  


**EPILOGUE**

The wedding is beautiful, if a little unusual. The fact that there are more than two people swearing undying love until death do they part might have caused some confusion to the smattering of guests, mainly older relatives, who didn’t know the whole story. But, given how happy everyone involved looks, there are few rumbles of discontent.

It’s possible that Dean even sheds a tear or two during the ceremony. Thankfully Cas wipes them away before anyone else notices. If pushed, Dean can always lay blame on the hundreds of flowers decorating the tiny church. Hay fever really is a bitch.

The wedding feast afterwards is a huge success. With Cain being in charge of the food it obviously would be. And although the wedding cake is spectacular, four tiers, two of them chocolate, Dean is more enamored with the array of mini pies that accompany it. Cain is a stoic alpha of few words at times, but his actions more than make up for that.

The only problem with the whole wedding thing is the dancing after the meal. Dean doesn’t dance. He’d much rather eat another pie while he watches everyone else shuffle awkwardly around the room.

He tries to explain this to Benny, who’s dragging him unwillingly towards the dance floor.

“Nope, no way. I don’t dance.”

Benny just laughs. “Sure darlin’, just like you don’t cuddle.”

Dean scowls. That’s unfair. He… okay, they all know now he’s bullshiting when he says he doesn’t cuddle, but he seriously doesn’t dance. Not where there’s people around to witness his uncoordinated two-left footed attempts.

Benny swoops Dean into his arms, kisses the spluttered complaints from his lips and leads him around the floor as sure-footed as if he’d been doing it all his life. Dean tries very hard not to stand on his toes and definitely not to be charmed. 

Benny, as always, isn’t fooled for a second. “You’re adorable,” he says, against the crook of Dean’s neck, right over his mating mark. One of his mating marks at least. He also has a more discreet one from Cain slightly lower down on the back of his neck, and one decidedly lower down on his left ass cheek. Because, contrary to what his conservative suits and polite manner suggest, Cas is kinky fucker, without a shred of subtlety, who likes to mark his territory.

Dean looks around when there’s a tap on his shoulder. Speaking of Cas. “May I interrupt?”

“Yes,” Dean says instantly, shoving Benny towards Cas, even though he suspects Cas actually wanted to take advantage of the fact that Dean was on the dance floor for the first time all night.

Before the alphas can complain or Dean can make his escape however, Charlie is in front of him, a determined look on her face. “You owe me a dance, Winchester.”

Dean’s shoulders slump. He can hardly argue with her today of all days. “Whatever,” he says, as graceful as ever, doing his best to ignore Benny and Cas’ laughter as they sensibly waltz out of range of Dean’s uncoordinated limbs.

Thankfully Charlie manages to steer them around the edges of the dance floor without too much trouble. “Nice wedding, Bradbury,” Dean says, once he’s figured out that following her lead is the easiest path to take.

“It’s been pretty awesome, right?” Charlie grins up at him. Dean’s heart swells a little just seeing how happy she is. “And Gilda and Dorothy look totally hot!”

“You look pretty cute yourself,” Dean points out. The white pantsuit Charlie had eventually settled on after a day-long shopping expedition that Dean had somehow been roped into, is perfect for her. And as close to bridal as she was willing to get.

“Speaking of cute,” Charlie says. “How adorable are you four with your matching bow ties and vests?”

“Benny’s idea,” Dean groans. He’d tried to veto the suggestion, but had been soundly out-voted. “So,” he says, changing the subject quickly. “Dorothy’s father came round to the whole triad marriage thing?

“Pretty much,” Charlie says, moving them deftly out of the way of a pair of octogenarians tearing around the dance floor. “He’s not over the moon, but between Gilda’s charm and my lovable personality, we’re winning him round.”

Dean’s glad. All he wants is for Charlie to be happy. She deserves that.

“You know, I never would have dreamt I could have all this if it wasn’t for you,” Charlie says, her tone more solemn than usual. “You opened my eyes. Made me question what I believed. I’m sorry I was a bitch to you for a while there. I was just jealous that you were brave enough to screw convention and go for what made you happy.”

Dean kisses the top of her head. “I’m just glad you, Dorothy and Gilda worked things out in the end.”

“Me too,” Charlie says with a grin. “It took us a while but somehow we still managed to beat you down the aisle.”

“Yeah, well,” Dean says. “We’re in no rush.”

His dad is still recovering from the discovery that Dean has bagged himself three alphas. Dean actually thought, from the worrying color his father’s face turned and the throbbing vein in his temple, that John Winchester was going to have a coronary. Still, in the end, he took the news better than Dean imagined. The three alphas towering over him in his living room, probably had a little to do with that.

Sam’s too busy geeking it up at Stanford to care about anything other than the fact that Dean is happy and safe, and not about to disappear out of his life forever. Of course, the dweeb has mailed Dean a whole heap of information about the history of alphas and omegas living in packs. And explained expansively how perfectly natural it all is. And of course, how it happens ALL the time in California. And people are so open here, Dean, and you’d love it, Dean and maybe you should think about moving out here someday, Dean.

Dean loves the nerd, he really does.

“So, are you heading off on your honeymoon tonight?” Dean asks Charlie, trying to nudge her towards the bar. Charlie ignores his attempts and leads him firmly back towards the center of the dance floor.

“Tomorrow,” Charlie says. “We’re spending tonight in the honeymoon suite of some super-duper posh hotel, courtesy of Gilda’s parents. It’s gonna be freaking awesome.”

“Nice,” Dean says. “I bet they have a sweet breakfast buffet, ooh, and those little chocolates on the pillows.”

Charlie scrunches her nose up at him. “I was thinking more about all the amazing sex we’re going to have but I can see where your priorities lie.”

“Indeed,” Cain interrupts, from beside them. “We may have won Dean around with our charm and good looks, but it was my apple pie that really sealed the deal.”

“He’s not wrong.” Dean grins at Cain.

“Do you think I could steal Dean away from you?” Cain asks, Charlie. “I believe your beautiful new wives are looking for you anyway.”

Indeed, Gilda and Dorothy are heading their way. Charlie murmurs in his ear something that immediately lights his cheeks on fire, before winking lewdly and letting her new wives sweep her away.

“What did she say to you?” Cain asks, placing his hand on the small of Dean’s back, and leading him off the dance floor, much to Dean’s relief.

“Nothing,” Dean mumbles.

“Why is Dean blushing?” Cas asks, as he and Benny break away from the dancing to join them.

“I’m not blushing,” Dean lies.

Cain smirks. “I think Charlie said something to offend his delicate sensibilities.”

Dean elbows Cain in the ribs. “I do not have delicate sensibilities.”

“Come on, darlin’, you can tell us,” Benny joins in. “What did Charlie say?”

Dean sighs. He knows they won’t let it drop now. “She said… she said they were going to figure out if two knots were better than one on their wedding night.”

Dean scowls when all his alphas laugh.

“Did you tell her we’d already figured that one out during your last heat?” Cas asks.

“Of course he didn’t,” Benny says. “You know he still gets all bashful when anyone mentions sex outside the bedroom.”

“I do not,” Dean retorts, indignantly. So, he prefers to actually have sex rather than talk about it. There’s nothing wrong with that.

“Speaking of sex outside the bedroom,” Cain says, kissing the corner of Dean’s pouting lips. “There’s an office beside the kitchen with a very sturdy desk.”

“And,” Cas says, smoothing his hand over the curve of Dean’s ass. “I know you’re wearing those pretty pink panties, Dean.”

“I bet we can make you come without even taking them off,” Benny adds.

Dean shifts, slick already soaking into his panties as his alpha’s scents turn predatory and they herd him towards the door.

“Three alphas,” Dean complains, glancing around to make sure no one is paying them attention as they leave the room with suspicious haste. “Three times the trouble.”

“Three times the charm,” Benny corrects.

“Three times the love,” Cain points out.

“And three times the sex,” Cas says, gleefully.

And well, that’s not something Dean’s complaining about. Even when they discover the desk isn’t as sturdy as it looks. Or when yet another pair of his panties end up in shreds. 

  
  


**Finis.  
Thanks for reading! <3**

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